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October, 1956: The First Issue of Together 

October, 1958: We Find Reverence in Nature 

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January, 1961: He Ponders the New Year Ahead 


December, 1961: A Masterful Nativity by Rembrandt 

< >«?»*. 

September, 1964: The Bou 

nty of Our Father's World 


Thanksgiving for tho Momal«a> 
Salvation Army. Pool* for Chna 

lO Omnundmtnti in Sculpt.. 
Unr««t on th« Campua 

November, 1965: Under the Red Shield of Mercy 

October, 1968: Our Christian Faith in Unity 


March, 1969: American Students in India 


MjinUnd Chin' Today 

Edwird W. Iiunun ttbk Serin. Nm Lite Togcthtt 

The S*4 liUndi Rrvtulrd 

17 Years 


January, 1972: A Sermon from the 'Now Generation' 

HE IDEA OF presenting this final issue of Together 
as a Collector's Edition seemed simple at first. What 
could be easier than putting out a magazine made up 
chiefly jf previously published articles and pictures? A 
scissors and paste job, it seemed. 

Then came the process of deciding which articles and 
pictures lo include. The immensity of the task soon began 
to come clear and we spent literally weeks on it. Even in 
102 pages, we discovered, it is not possible to present 
more than a few selections from among the hundreds 
of Together pictorials, articles, and covers that were 
among your favorites during the past 17 years. 

What we must say, then, is that the contents of this 
issue are not offered as "the best of Together" since 
1956. (Who could define what is "best"?) What we are 
offering is a variety of material from which we hope you 
will find a great deal that is interesting, inspiring, and 
worth reading again and again. 

We have our own favorites, of course, though not 
many could be included. As we turned back through 
thousands of pages in some 200 issues, we lingered over 
various full-color features. We were tempted by several 
of the 16 annual reader-participation pictorials produced 
from thousands of color transparencies submitted by our 
large family of photographers. Our choice among longer 
features, however, went to Where Is Christ Today? 
[pages 55-62], not so much for its pictorial appeal as for 
its enduring message — a message central to the maga- 
zine's Christian perspective through the years. 

The covers reproduced in miniature here aren't neces- 
sarily the "best" or most appealing either. They tell their 
own story and were selected for variety of theme from 
Together's early, middle, and recent years to illustrate 

the trend of the magazine during times of change. [For 
a comprehensive review of these years, see Alfred P. 
Klausler's article beginning on page 10.] 

This issue is divided roughly into three sections. With 
some overlapping, each section is representative of the 
magazine's approach under the leadership of the men 
who served during its three eras of publication. 

Leafing through our files, we found memories on 
almost every page; and we seemed to hear again the 
voices of agreement and dissent, outrage and approval 
that echoed through the years. We recalled what an 
elderly minister told us back in 1956: 

"You will find that us Methodists stand solidly to- 
gether — in disagreement!" 

We received our share of bouquets, of course. But 
along with the flowers came the brickbats. This we had 
expected, and we would have had it no other way, but 
who could object to the meditative infant whose pensive 
picture graces the lower right-hand corner of this edi- 
tion's foldout cover? 

Well, a Missouri woman wrote: "With the world full 
of lovely, sweet babies, why did you put that ... on the 
cover? ... He looks exactly like Nikita Khrushchev. I 
removed the ridiculous thing from the magazine." 

Not so critical was an Oregon man who said he was 
struck by the fact that the baby is "a dead ringer for 
Dean Rusk. Look at that chin, mouth, and the eyes!" 

A naval chaplain: "I submit that this looks like a bishop 
speaking to a pastoral relations committee: 'So you won't 
take this preacher back under any circumstances, eh?' " 

And so it went. Even the twins and the collie on our 
first cover — and reappearing in 1961 — didn't escape 
criticism. A minister rebuked us for including the collie, 
declaring that dogs are big business and "eat better 
than people in many other countries." 

But controversy over a solemn baby and a collie was 
mild compared to that which erupted with the July, 1957, 
vacation-season cover which shows a family of four on a 
beach. The mother and father wear shorts of styles which 
would be accepted as modest — -almost oid-fashioned — in 

"One more of these covers and you can cancel our 
subscription," one reader protested. 

"I can't find any scriptural text that advocates a sexy 
sweater and sho I ;," wrote another. 

"I have been nding my copies to a family in India," 
still another de( red. "I am ashamed to send this issue, 
unless I tear off the cover." 

Two ministers /ere quick to defend the cover, how- 
ever. "That took iluck!" one wrote. "It's good to know 
that you don't s anything immoral about a Christian 
mother at the b ch." 

Yes, agreed t other, "prudery and Christianity are 
not synonymou 1 hough I fear as a church it has taken 
us a long time i realize this. . . . Together shows our 
folks that Christy.) living is really a lot of fun, and not a 
bit old fashioned." In recent years reader reactions to 
pictures of people in swimsuits or shorts generally have 
been mild. 

Not mild was the reaction of many to a frank 1957 arti- 
cle which permitted a contributor to express her personal 
opinion about the church's stand on drinking. She was 

an anguished young housewife whose Sunday-school 
superintendent had seen her drinking a bottle of beer 
Because of this, the woman, a church leader herself felt 
she was being ostracized by others. She wondered if the 
church's "stand on drinking is making a lot of hypocrites 
of us." 

Although her article was printed side by side with a 
strong one against social drinking by a prominent Meth- 
odist physician and temperance lecturer — one of many 
antidrinking features Together would publish through 
the years — an avalanche of protesting mail followed. 
Many readers maintained that "this question can't be 
argued and should not appear in a church magazine." 


'UT BY the mid-1960s, as one world crisis followed 
another, as the moral fabric of the nation seemed to be 
tearing apart, it became an imperative editorial respon- 
sibility to discuss subjects that once were hush-hush even 
in secular magazines. 

"The May [1965] issue is most excellent," wrote a 
New York minister. "You covered homosexuality, civil 
rights, the city, the campus, the free-speech movement, 
the mentally ill, how to be inept in the pulpit, the Na- 
tional Council of Churches. Your reporters showed real 
understanding in every instance. I like the new look of 

Not so a Maryland man, outraged by the same issue: 
"I was deeply shocked. ... I do not want any future 
issues of Together to come into my house. Kindly cancel 
my subscription at once." 

That's the way it was as the years skittered away like 
leaves before autumn wind. When some problems and 
issues faded away, others loomed. And, while we look 
back across these 17 years with considerable editorial 
pride, we realize that perhaps every issue of the maga- 
zine could have been a bit better. But we are only 
human — and being human, we occasionally made slips 
that eagle-eyed readers pounced upon. 

One of our editors — a most knowledgeable Bible stu- 
dent — came up with one that is legendary around the 
office. In an important article he wrote that Jesus was 
"born in Nazareth" — and this got by several usually alert 
proofreaders and apparently by most — but not all — of 
our subscribers. 

We learned, and we knew better, that Jesse Stuart is 
a Kentuckian — not a Tennessean, that there should have 
been no covered wagons in a superb painting of Bishop 
Francis Asbury at Cumberland Gap, and that one of our 
caption writers didn't know the difference between a 
diesel and a piston engine. (He still doesn't.) The first 
issue listed the date of John Wesley's death as 1790 
instead of 1791; the death of Martin Luther at age 63 
instead of 62. Also, the Wesley brothers had auburn 
hair, according to authorities on Methodist history, not 
dark hair as we stated in an early issue. 

The slips are remembered, of course. Just as vividly, 
we recall the warm praise from thousands of readers as 
they joyously accepted a publication unlike any that had 
ever appeared in church journalism. 

But was it really so different after all? Actually Together 

fell in line with a Methodist tradition that began when 
John Wesley went out not only to preach but to reach 
people with the printed word. So Together, in its modern, 
colorful typographical dress, was a 20th-century projec- 
tion of Wesley's philosophy — and its purpose has been 
little different from that of the first Christian Advocate 
147 years ago, then "an entertaining, instructive, and 
profitable family visitor devoted to the interests of reli- 
gion, morality . . . and general intelligence . . ." 

As Christians we are concerned with all aspects of the 
world around us. Thus, the magazine has consistently 
presented a wide range of subject matter. We find 
articles on the high cost of funerals, on fallout shelters, 
capital punishment, biblical archaeology, church-related 
colleges, the effect of TV on children, medicine, race, 
retirement, conservation. 

We visited big churches and little churches, slums, 
prisons, national parks. We traveled with migrant work- 
ers. We visited the Rockies, the Smokies, the Black Hills, 
and the Ozarks. We went to Las Vegas and the South 
Seas. We traveled the entire world, even looked at the 
church behind communist walls. 

We sat beside a young mother dying of cancer and 
heard her say, "I am not afraid." We grieved at the 
gradual but inevitable passing of the little country church 
of our childhood. And when we "preached," we 
preached Christ as the answer to the violence and injus- 
tice so rampant in the world of our time. We followed 
the work of missionaries in far fields. We presented out- 
standing sermons, articles on sex education and the 
Christian family. And we reviewed again and again the 
glorious history of our church. 

"The wide range of topics which Together has been 
able to bring under its big tent has been a matter of 
some amazement to me," wrote Ben Hibbs, the noted 
editor, on the magazine's fifth birthday. "Perhaps this 
means that there are more good things in life than one 

In miniature, then, this issue brings under its "tent" 
a comparatively wide range of topics. No doubt you 
will miss, as we do, some favorite article, pictorial, or 
cover. For example, we treasure (as most readers do) 
the cover picture of a little boy and a baby chick for 
which we still receive requests. It inspired a Seattle 
woman to write a poem. We particularly liked another 
cover — the prose masterpiece by Max Ehrmann, Desid- 
erata, which some readers framed for home or office 
wall. We wanted to include one of our most popular 
and unusual pictorials, The Twelve Disciples, by Sune 
Richards, an artist-photographer whose subjects were 
living men. But our decision, finally, was that space in 
this issue is too limited to devote 12 pages to any one 


January, 1974: With the New Year, a New Magazine 

feature. [An example of Mrs. Richards's work, however, 
is on page 46 with an article by the late W. F. Albright, 
John the Baptist — Today.] 

Together is now history. The first issue of its successor, 
United Methodists Today, will appear next month. We 
believe the new magazine in its 1974 dress will be wel- 
comed as enthusiastically as the first issue of Together 
in days long gone. 

This special edition is only a sampling of what Together 
has been, of what it has tried to do. We hope that you 
will find something in its pages that will please you, 
something to spark your interest, inspire you, or tell you 
some things you did not know — or had forgotten — about 
your church and the millions of persons who call them- 
selves United Methodists today. — Your Editors 

TOGETHER November-December 1973 

Vol. XVII. No. 10. Copyright © 1973 
by The United Methodist Publishing House 
TOGETHER is published monthly except com- 
bined issue of August and September by 
The United Methodist Publishing House at 
201 Eighth Ave. S., Nashville, Tenn. 37202, 
where second-class postage has been paid. 
The above address is the location of the 
Business and Subscription Offices (Phone 

[Area 615) 749-6405) and the Advertising 
Office (Phone [Area 615] 749-6141). 
Subscription: $5 a year in advance, single 
copy $1.50. TOGETHER CHURCH PLAN sub 

scriptions through United Methodist churches 
are $4 per year, cash in advance, or $1 per 
quarter, billed quarterly. Change of Address: 
Five weeks advance notice is required. Send 
old and new addresses and label from 
current issue to Subscription Office. Adver- 

tising: Write Advertising Office for rates. 
Editorial Submissions: Address all cor- 
respondence to Editorial Office, TOGETHER, 
1661 N. Northwest Hwy., Park Ridge, III. 
60068 (Phone [Area 312] 299-4411). No 
responsibility can be assumed for loss of 
or damage to unsolicited manuscripts, art, 
or photographs. 

Postmaster: Send Form 3579 to TOGETHER, 
201 Eighth Ave. S., Nashville, Tenn. 37202. 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

veryone wants 
readable Bible! 




Billy Graham says . . . 

"In this book I have read 

the age-abiding truths 

of the Scriptures with 

renewed interest and 

nspiration, as though 

coming to me 

direct from God. 

This paraphrase 


the message of 

Christ to our 

generation. Your 

reading it will give you 

a new understanding 

of the Scriptures." 

"All the special gifts and powers 
from God will someday come to an 
end. but love goes on forever. Some- 
day prophecy, and speaking in un- 
known languages, and special 
knowledge these gifts will disap- 
pear. ''Now we know so little, even 
with our special gifts, and the 
preaching of those most gifted is 
still so poor. "But when we have 
been made perfect and complete, 
then the need for these inadequate 
special gifts will come to an end, 
and they will disappear. 

"It's like this: when I was a 
child I spoke and thought and rea- 
soned as a child does. But when I 


sh things. "In the same way, we 
can see and understand only a little 
about God now, as if we were peer- 
ing at his reflection in a poor mir- 
ror; but someday we are going to 
see him in his completeness, face to 
face. Now all that I know is hazy 
and blurred, but then I will see ev- 
erything clearly, just as clearly as 
God sees into my heart right now. 
"There are three things that re- 
main faith, hope, and love -and 
the greatest of these is love. 

14LHT LOVE BE your greatest 

aim; nevertheless, ask also for 

the special abilities the Holy Spirit 






1 Seventeen Years 
With Together 

7 Churches Serving People 
Color Pictorial 



The Together Years: 1956-73 
Where We Have Been 
Alfred Paul Klausler 

Together. 1956-63 
The Early Years 
Herman B. Teeter 


Highlights of 
Methodist History 

22 His Mother 

Called Him 'Jackie' 
People Called Methodists 

26 The Family Amid 

Challenge and Change 
Color Pictorial 

48 The Many Shapes of Crosses 
Ralph W. Seager 

On the Frontier, 
the Circuit Riders 
Color Pictorial 

Why I Am a Methodist 
Richard S. Battle 

32 'Anxiety Is Not Necessary' 
E. Stanley Jones 

34 My 40 Days and Nights 

With the Algerian Rebels 
tester E. Griffith, Jr. 

38 Methodism Comes to 
the New World 
Color Pictorial 

40 On the Catholic Spirit 
John Wesley 

43 This Soaring Day 
Jane Merchant 

44 Push the Fledglings Out 
Edna Walker Chandler 

46 John the Baptist — Today 
W. F. Albright 

52 Together: 1963-69 
The Middle Years 
George P. Miller 

54 The Risks of Church Renewal 

55 Where Is Christ Today? 

63 Charlie Brown — 
The Theologian! 
Robert Short 

66 Christian Art 

Through the Ages 
Color Pictorial 

68 Thanks a Lot! 
Bob W. Brown 

(Continued on page 6) 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 5 




• : • • 

Interest In Your 
Church With 
Carillon Bells 

A demonstration 
in your church 

Will prove to you 
that Carillon Bells: 

□ Increase Attendance 

□ Provide Spiritual 

□ Uplift Hearts in Your 

Carillon bells invoke an enchanting 
atmosphere with the most 
magnificent percussive sounds ever 
heard. Carillon bells can create a 
new awareness of your church and 
increase attendance by influencing 
the hearts and minds of the people 
in your community. 
A trial installation in your church 
will let you experience the 
remarkable outreach of a 
Schulmerich Carillon. It will inspire, 
remind and attract people to 
religious services. 

Write for complete details of a trial 

Special offer 

ask to hear the 33'/3 RPM hi-fidelity 
recording, "The Magnificient 
Schulmerich Americana® Carillon." 

Carillons Jut. 

31 1 13 Carillon Hill, Sellersville, 
Penna. 18960 215-257-2771 

Schulmerich is the world's largest 
manufacturer of Handbells, 
Carillons, Chimes and Other hell 

70 The Beauty of the Earth 
Co/or Pictorial 

71 The View From Mt. Nebo 
Herman B. Teeter 

76 The American Woman 1968 
Helen Johnson 

78 Together. 1969-73 
The Recent Years 
Paige Carlin 

80 The Power of a Gentle Touch 
Frances Fowler Allen 

82 Letters From Elsewhere 
Herman B. Teeter 

84 Approaching the Lord's Table 
John L. Knight 

86 The Church 'In All the World' 
Co/or Pictorial 

88 Missionary to Myself 

Barbara Dodo's Stanford 

91 Where Are They Now? 
Martha A. Lane 

96 Prayer for Earth 
Newman S. Cryer 

98 An Ending ... A Beginning 
John E. Procter 


Acting Editorial Director and Acting 

Editor: Paige Carlin 
Associate Editors: Herman B. Teeter, 

Helen Johnson, Martha A. lane, 

James F. Campbell, Sandra Leneau, 

Janet W. Hayashi 

Art Editor: Robert C. Goss 
Picture Editor: George P. Miller 
News Editor: John A. Lovelace 

Assistants: Lynda Campo and 
Debra Beachy (news), 
Linda B. Ingstrup (research), 
Debra D. Johnston (production) 

Business-Circulation Manager: 

Warren P. Clark 

Advertising Manager: John H. Fisher 
Fulfillment Manager: Jock /. Inman 
Publisher: John E. Procter 


All illustrations ore credited on the pages where 
they appear except: Covers — John Randolph, 1956; 
Mrs. Myrtle Walgreen, 1958; Donald Culross 
Peattie, 1960; Walter O. Rutz, Jan., 1961; Nation- 
al Gallery of Art, Washington, DC, Dec, 1961; 
K. R. Greene, 1964; Joe Covello, Black Stor, 1965; 
George P. Miller, 1968; T. S. Saytan, Black Star, 
1969; Brother Adrian, 1972 • Page 3— Dawn 
Turnham • 11 L. — RNS by David Clanton • 11 R.- 
14 Top-15 L.-16 R.— RNS • 12 Top— U.S. Army, 
Bot. — The Museum of Modern Art, New York • 
14 Bot. — Ken Thompson • 17 — RNS by Don Rut- 
ledge • 91 R. — Chicago Cubs • 92 Top R. — 
Betford Corp., Bot. R. — Jack Lonzo, Top Cen. — 
United Seamen's Service, Bot. Cen. — Saturday 
Review-World, R. — Harold Cousland • 93 Top — Bart 
Starr, Bot. R. — Univ. of South Carolina • 94 I. 
— NASA, Cen. — March of Dimes, R. — Project Con- 
cern • 95 — James Taylor • 10 L.-1S R.-16 L. — 
George P. Miller. 

AND CIRCULATION, October 1, 1973 (as required 
by act of October 23, 1962; Section 4369, Title 39, 
United States Code) of Together, published monthly 
except combined issue of August and September at 
201 Eighth Avenue, South, Nashville, Tennessee 
37203, with headquarters and business offices at 
same address. 

Thomas K. Potter certifies that he is Vice-President 
in Charge of Publishing of said publication and that 
the following is to the best of his knowledge and 
belief, o true statement of ownership, management, 
and circulation of the aforesaid publication for the 
date shown in caption; 

1 . That the names and addresses of the publisher 
and acting editor are: 

Publisher, John E. Procter, Nashville, Tennessee 


Acting Editor, Paige Carlin, Park Ridge, Illinois 


2. That the owner is the Board of Publication of 
The United Methodist Church, Inc. d/b/a The 
United Methodist Publishing House. 

3. That there are no bondholders, mortgages, or 
security holders. 

4. That the printing and circulation is as follows: 
Total number of copies printed — 

Average for preceding 12 months 254,314 

Single issue nearest filing date 228,031 

Paid Circulation — 

Average for preceding 12 months 223,586 

Single issue nearest filing date 193,948 

Sales through agents or dealers — none 

Free distribution — 

Averoge for preceding 12 months 9,644 

Single issue nearest filing date 8,258 

Total number of copies distributed — 

Average for preceding 12 months 233,230 

Single issue nearest filing date 202,206 

November-December 1973 TOGETHIR 

Churches Serving People... 


church, ideally, stands 
where it is needed; but for decades 
people have been on the move from 
rural areas to small towns, from small 
towns to large cities, from the cities to 
suburbia. No longer does the small 
rural church, once the backbone 
of Methodism, play the role it once 
had — that of serving people. 

No matter how nostalgic we may 
feel, the fact is that thousands of small 
country churches have died; hundreds 
more will be closed and abandoned. 

"Forty percent of our churches 
(more than 15,000 of them) have fewer 
than 100 members each," wrote 
Earl D. C. Brewer, professor of sociology, 
Candler School of Theology, Emory 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 









k J 

George P. Miller— October, 1968 

University, in the September, 
1967, issue of Together. Dr. Brewer 
pointed out that these 15,000 
churches claim only 8 percent of 
our membership. 

As editors we have 
recorded with interest the new 
kinds of churches that have come into 
existence as Methodism continues 
to go where it is needed. 
We have pictured the architectural 
splendors of the big churches in 
prosperous suburban areas; we have 
gone to those pressure points 
of society where some Christians 
are less concerned with building 
churches than with being the church. 
We recall the storefront church 
in Savannah, Ga. (left), 
as well as the bright new sanctuary 
of St. Stephen United Methodist 
Church, Mesquite, Texas (above). 

We noted that an apartment 
church in Milwaukee, a coffeehouse 
in Atlanta, a house in New York 
City, a marketplace ministry in 
Virginia— all these and more — are 
doing what the small country 
church of fond memory once did. 
Again, in new places, the church 
is serving people. 

Just the same, we were 
pleased to point out that reverent 
gatherings like this one at a 
little church near Buckhannon, W.Va., 
(right) are still a part of The 
United Methodist Church. 

The Together Years: 1956-73 

Where We Have Been 


here have we been as a church 

and as a nation since 1956? What 

role has this magazine played 

in relation to events of the times? 

For a view that is more detached 

than we ourselves could manage we 

called on a well-respected 

journalist who is executive secretary 

of the Associated Church Press. 

Alfred P. Klausler is also a religious 

commentator for Westinghouse 

Broadcasting Company and regularly 

writes year-end summaries on 

religion for the Britannica Book of 

the Year. He is a Lutheran 

minister who served as an army 

chaplain in World War II. 

— Your Editors 

The author 

By Alfred Paul Klausler 

SOMETHING of a drunkard's eu- 
phoria pervaded the America of 
the late 1950s. The glitter of 
chrome and neon lights blinded 
most Americans to any ugliness hid- 
ing behind the nearest billboard. 

True, the Korean War of the early 
fifties remained an unpleasant mem- 
ory. The specter of potential nuclear 
disaster haunted thoughtful Ameri- 
cans, as did John Foster Dulles's 

There was always the fear of athe- 
istic communism, exacerbated by 
Sen. Joseph McCarthy. Under his 
bludgeoning, Americans were told 
that Communists had infiltrated the 
most sensitive governmental areas — 
and many believed him. His bluster- 
ing quickly faded after a Senate cen- 
sure, but it was an unpleasant re- 
minder of what happens when 
hysteria rides the whirlwind. 

There were some other unpleas- 
antnesses. A violent but brief rebel- 
lion by the Hungarians against the 
occupying Russians brought cruel re- 
prisals. (Together later had several 
articles on the plight of Hungarian 
refugees.) The Algerian rebellion 
which drove out the French was 
savage. There were unmentionable 

atrocities committed on both sides. 

Despite all this, Americans were 
enjoying new levels of prosperity. 
The gross national product soared 
each year, and the gross national in- 
come reached fantastic heights. Sor- 
rows, concerns, and worries about 
the past and future were smothered 
by the feeling that a golden age 
had arrived. This was the time when 
the nation rolled along (5 million 
passenger cars built in 1957; over 5.5 
million in 1959) under the genial 
father figure of President Dwight D. 
Eisenhower, whose preoccupation 
with golf brought reassurance to mil- 
lions that the nation was in good 

And yet there was an uneasiness 
beneath the surface, much as though 
unseen skeletons were present at a 
wedding feast. 

The issues of the first volume of 
Together (1956-57) reflected the para- 
dox. A letter in the first issue (Octo- 
ber, 1956) saluted the magazine be- 
cause here would be a periodical 
expressing "the deepest mood of 
Christian fellowship." The editor 
confidently predicted the initial half- 
million subscribers would soon be 
joined by another half million. 

President Eisenhower meets the Methodist bishops 

10 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Mutuality among Christians was a 
truly happy idea in a world where 
there was ugliness, as Norman Cous- 
ins's dramatic account of the Hiro- 
shima Maidens in Together'?, first 
issue demonstrated. In other early 
issues there were occasional remind- 
ers that life in the nation or the 
church was not all that glorious, 
but there were objections when too 
much nastiness was exposed. One 
book review castigated Nelson Al- 
gren's novel, A Walk on the Wild 
Side, because the reviewer felt it 
wasn't really that necessary to dwell 
on life's seamier aspects. 

An interview with Norman Rock- 
well, illustrator of America the beau- 
tiful, received full-dress treatment 
to the applause of happy readers. A 
counteracting irritant to that feature 
was an article asking, Should the 
United Nations Admit Red China? 
And editorial comments and brief 
news items pointed to racial troubles 
to come as demonstrated by a re- 
port of vicious attacks on a Meth- 

Little girl's world 

odist clergyman who had encouraged 
racial integration of his church in 
Chicago's South Deering area. Not 
everyone could be satisfied. A letter 
from a reader complained that while 
Together was pretty and interesting, 
it should show more social concern. 

A photo invitational, based on the 
theme of America the Beautiful, en- 
couraged photographers to catch the 
glories and promise (presumably no 
tragedies or failures) of the country. 

The editors may have felt that 
Together reflected too bland an 
image of life in the world. Thus in 
February, 1958, there was a no-holds- 
barred report from visiting Australian 
clergyman Alan Walker on his Ameri- 
can observations. Dr. Walker found 
the absence of adolescents at wor- 
ship "startling," and he noted the 

sparseness of the working class and 
the lower economic groups in Ameri- 
can church services and membership. 
He viewed the decaying cities and 
the lemming-like flow of whites to 
the suburbs as facts which needed 
to be dealt with before it was too 
late. Although his proposed cures 
were not as dramatic as his descrip- 
tions of the malaise affecting the 
church, his total assessment must 
age reader as the unbidden guest 
have been as welcome to the aver- 
at the wedding feast. 

Countering the Walker gloom a 
few months later was a portfolio of 
photographs in gleaming colors 
which depicted American family 
scenes. An interview with Frank 
Lloyd Wright offered an eloquent 
farewell to traditional Gothic church 
structures. The famous architect said 
it was time for church building com- 
mittees to reexamine the purpose of 
the structures they planned. 

The death of John Foster Dulles in 
May, 1959, may have signaled for 
some the end of America's messianic 
urge to police the world for the 
betterment of all. But Dulles left a 
foreign-policy legacy which would 
result in tragic developments. 

Few could have forecast, at the 
death of Pope Pius XII on October 
9, 1958, that an end had come to a 
kind of Roman Catholicism which 
long had antagonized Protestants. 
With the election of Angelo Giu- 
seppe Roncalli to the papacy as Pope 
lohn XXIII, a startling series of events 
began in the life of the organized 
church. This pope's words and pres- 
ence affected all of Christendom, 
and it was as though all the hopes 
and troubles of Christianity focused 
on him. 

What was happening to religion 
in the fifties presaged later develop- 
ments which would dismay the faith- 
ful and ultimately affect the eco- 
nomics of religious publishing. In 
May, 1957, Together asked, Is the 
Churchgoing Boom Real? (It had its 
doubts.) The fifties were marked by 
an upsurge in piety. Going to church 
and being a church member had be- 
come culturally acceptable. In 1920, 
43 percent of Americans had claimed 
church membership. By 1956, 62 per- 
cent said they belonged to a church. 
This was surely an astounding growth. 
Protestants, Catholics, and Jews alike 
rejoiced loudly. 

Still, a number of ecclesiastical 
Cassandras remained unimpressed. 
They pointed out that hucksters had 
taken over religion and were pur- 
veying it much as Madison Avenue 
sold deodorants. By 1957, according 
to these observers, America's new 

Pope John XX 

piety was fading, and Billy Graham's 
Madison Square Garden rally in 1957 
was the apotheosis of a religion 
which demanded personal repent- 
ance but which had little concern for 
social ills. Theologian Reinhold Nie- 
buhr lamented that "our religiosity 
seems to have little to do with the 
Christian faith." Church historian 
Martin E. Marty said that most Amer- 
icans revered a God who was under- 
standable, manageable, and comfort- 
ing. The God of the late fifties was 
an American jolly good fellow with 
whom one maintained a comfortable 
familiarity. This new piety had few 
lasting qualities, and its theological 
depth was minimal. 

Conformity had become the true 
god and, as it generally does, it 
brought material well-being. While 
church membership rolls had shown 
increases, though, many Christians 
had moments of unease when they 
read about, or saw, evidences of 
continued racial discrimination, poor 
housing, inadequate diets. The few 
clergymen who dared share their 
unease with parishioners quickly 
found that this was the road to dis- 
comfort. To some churchmen it was 
quite evident that God had been 
removed as a point of reference, 
even though there were the usual 
genuflections in his direction. 

Although Methodists in 1956 were 
building churches at the rate of $1 
million per day (Presbyterians, Lu- 
therans, Baptists were similarly pre- 
occupied), foxes were gnawing at 
the roots of the vine. It would be 
a matter of time before the leaves 
withered; but as the fifties faded out, 
there was a feeling, difficult to com- 
municate, that all was not well with 
the body politic, with the church, 
and with the kind of life most Amer- 
icans were leading. 

Together expressed both optimism 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


ism. There was lamenta- 
i about the silence of the youth 
eration, though one college stu- 
te to the editor that a 
minority did too talk — it was just 
that no one listened. It was time 
the church to tune in, he insisted. 
Optimism showed up in Together's 
ember, 1959, issue which ob- 
. ed that Methodists were growing 
at the rate of 126,000 a year and, if 
this annual growth of 1.1 percent 
kept up, there would be 12,357,192 
Methodists in 1984, then 25 years 
away. On the other hand, there was 
still the nagging worry that Meth- 
odists were too exclusively white- 
collar middle class and that the 
lower income groups weren't exactly 
flocking to join them. 

As if to place a seal on the fifties, 
Together's December, 1959, issue 
featured a two-page spread of Pablo 
Picasso's Guernica, a painting which 
wrote an epitaph for the decade 
that had seen the Korean War, 
the Hungarian revolt, and the ending 
of the bitter Vietnamese quarrel be- 
tween the north and south. The 
French had left Viet Nam, and it was 
up to the Vietnamese to settle their 
differences. The United States, the 
People's Republic of China, and 
Soviet Russia were to keep a watch- 
ful eye on Indochina. 

The world had survived the fifties 
without a nuclear holocaust, but 
there were other nagging worries, 
foreign and domestic, which would 
carry over into the sixties. There was 
the increasingly strong possibility that 
a Roman Catholic would gain a 
presidential nomination, and Prot- 
estants began the painful process of 
reexamining their traditional attitudes 
toward Catholicism and the presi- 
dency. Together quoted Methodist 
Bishop John Wesley Lord as saying 
that the issue was not John F. Ken- 

Mushroom cloud 

nedy's Catholicism but that it was 
"what he stands for." 

For a few rhapsodic moments, as 
calendars indicated the arrival of 
1960, there were hopes that the new 
decade would surely be the Soaring 
Sixties. Two more states had been 
admitted to the union, and there 
was nothing to prevent America from 
reaching new heights. True, fretting 
over Soviet Russia's launching of 
Sputnik continued. Americans won- 
dered uneasily if this nation could 
ever match that achievement. But 
this was a tiny cloud, and Eisenhower 
was planning a trip to Moscow to 
repay Khrushchev's visit. 

Then came an incident which sud- 
denly shattered the old American 
confidence. Francis Gary Powers, fly- 
ing his U-2 plane over Russia, was 
shot down. Moscow gleefully an- 
nounced his capture. President Eisen- 
hower first denied any knowledge of 
the spying mission, then finally con- 
fessed that he had known. It was 
hard to measure the shock which 
most Americans must have felt when 
they discovered that godless Moscow 
had been telling the truth while 

Pablo Picasso's Guernica (1937, May-early June); oil on canvas, 11' 5 1 /t" x 25' 5 1 /*' 
Extended loan to The Museum of Modern Art, New York, from the artist. 

Washington had lied. Here was the 
first tiny fissure of the credibility 
gap which later would widen into a 
huge chasm with the Pentagon Papers 
and the Watergate scandals. 

When John F. Kennedy was elected 
president that November, 1960, he 
had effectively answered Protestant 
concerns. Americans sat back to 
await developments. There was no 
doubt that the youthful president 
was injecting a new spirit into the 
nation. There was a determination to 
go forward — in space, in the defense 
of free peoples (although we did 
not realize the implications), in help- 
ing the world's unfortunates (the 
Peace Corps, for instance), and in 
fostering excellence in the a'rts. It 
had been ten years since the Korean 
War had started; the centennial of 
the Civil War would soon be ob- 
served; and Americans knew by this 
time, if our leaders were to be be- 
lieved, the nation must remain 
strong. Together's January, 1961, 
issue reported that the Methodist 
Council of Bishops had sent the 
newly elected president the coun- 
cil's best wishes. 

Certainly within The Methodist 
Church there was a sense of well- 
being. Together reported that in 1960 
U.S. churches had spent $1,045 mil- 
lion on new construction, and in 
1961 this figure would jump another 
$30 million. Many of the new build- 
ings included play and recreation 
units, streamlined kitchens, and air 
conditioning. J. Edgar Hoover also 
added to this sense of well-being by 
praising the loyalty of American 
clergymen. In his words, they were 
among "the most consistent and 
vigorous opponents of communism." 

As the sixties began to unroll, they 
brought seemingly inexplicable trag- 
edies. The death of UN Secretary 
General Dag Hammarskjold in North- 
ern Rhodesia as he was on a peace- 
seeking mission in the Congo cast 
a pall. There were continuing refugee 
problems in Africa and the Middle 
East. While we rejoiced over the sub- 
orbital flight of America's first man 
in space, the Communists began 
barricading the border between East 
and West Germany. The United 
States responded with a troop build- 
up. Our nerves became even more 
on edge in 1962 when we learned 
that Soviet Russia had placed missile 
launching pads in Cuba. 

On February 20, 1962, John Glenn 
orbited the earth and returned to 
national acclaim. Nineteen sixty-two 
also was the year when the "care- 
taker pope," John XXIII, convened 
his cardinals and bishops for a coun- 
cil which was to bring the Roman 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 






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650 Smithfield St. 
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Rev. James Christie 
PO Box 411 
Monroe, La. 71201 

Dr. Luman T. Cockerill 
609 Cravens Bldg. 
Oklahoma City, Okla. 73102 

Rev. Smiley Collins 
16085 Tartan Way 
Louisville, Ky. 40205 

Dr. Samuel Fore 

PO Box 28098 

San Antonio, Texas 78284 


Rev. Homer Gauntt 
214 26th Ave. 
Altoona, Pa. 16601 

Rev. Robert Gildner 
302 W. Ashland Ave. 
Indianola, Iowa 50125 

National Chairman 

Dr. James Ridgway 

2164 N.E. 25th St. 

Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. 33305 


Rev. Glenn E. Hamlyn 
1600 South Pearl St. 
Denver, Colo. 80210 

Rev. Ray Harrison 
717 Westwood Circle 
Brandon, Fla. 33511 

Dr. Earl Hughes 
620 E. Broadway 
Forrest City, Ark. 72335 

Rev. Lem Johnson 
520 Washington St. 
Camden, Indiana 46917 

National Director 
Rev. Frank Wanek 
204 Duryea Dr. 
Joppa, Md. 21085 

Rev. Ken Jones 
2709 Millwood Ct. 
Decatur, Ga. 30033 

Dr. Julian Lindsey 
Room 307 Cole Building 
207 Hawthorn Lane 
Charlotte, N.C. 28204 

Rev. Roy Murray 
430 South Queen St. 
Lakewood, Colorado 80226 

Dr. Paul Myers 
64 W. Chocolate Ave. 
Hershey, Pa. 17033 

Dr. Trueman Potter 
PO Box 2313 
Charleston, W. Va. 25328 

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11 08 W.Knox St. 
Durham, N.C. 27701 

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PO Box 8124 
Dallas, Texas 75205 

Rev. William A. Rock 
318Glenhaven Dr. 
Charlotte, N.C. 28214 

Rev. Robert Saunders 
PO Box 793 
Winters, Texas 79567 

Rev. Lester Spencer 
723 Forest Ave. 
Montgomery, Ala. 36106 

Rev. Ben St. Clair 

PO Box 567 

Oak Ridge, Tenn. 37830 


Rev. Robert Steelman 
134 Methodist Road 
Newport, N.J. 08345 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


Catholic Church up to date. The 
spirit of aggiornamento, letting the 
fresh winds of the 20th century waft 
through the Roman church, reflected 
John's determination to decentralize 
its vast bulk and acquaint it with the 
spirit of ecumenism. When the first 
session ended December 8, it was 
evident that the old images of Rome 
had been smashed. A feeling of 
brotherliness between all Christians 
became more and more evident 
despite the grumblings of Protestant 
and Catholic traditionalists. 

The presidential motorcade in 
Dallas, Texas, November 22, 1963, 
began like all motorcades. It was the 
last for President John F. Kennedy. 
An assassin's bullets shattered not 
only the president's skull but also 
America's bright dreams for the 
future. As the world mourned the 
death of a president who had been 
bringing hope to depressed people 
everywhere, America's blacks seemed 
to lose some of the momentum in 
their drive for equality. The dramatic 
March on Washington for jobs and 
equality that had taken place on 
August 28, 1963, was almost for- 
gotten in the period of mourning, 
as was the eloquence of Martin 
Luther King, Jr., and the heroism of 
Rosa Parks who had refused a back 
seat in an Alabama bus. 

If the fifties had rejected social 
problems and political apathy had 
been the hallmark of youth and 
adult, the sixties soon showed a 
startling difference. In the fifties, 
youth's bible was J. D. Salinger's 
Catcher in the Rye, a devastating 
attack on adult phoniness. But in the 
sixties, Joseph Heller's Catch-22 came 
to epitomize for youth the complete 
stupidity of the adult world. 

In a whirlwind of action a new 
president propelled through Congress 
a series of measures including the 
Civil Rights Act of 1964, giving 
Negroes legal recognition of all their 
demands. The Office of Economic 
Opportunity was established; pov- 

Grape strikers 

President Kennedy's funera 

erty was to be ended. And when 
Lyndon B. Johnson ran for the presi- 
dency in his own right in 1964, there 
were hopes that just possibly a new 
era might be on the way. At least 
that was what he promised. But 
as eloquent as his words were, the 
cycle of poverty for minority ele- 
ments was not broken. 

The overtone of troubled times 
was growing louder, and there were 
indications of more national diffi- 
culties to come. The Viet Nam prob- 
lem simply would not disappear. The 
U.S. was involved, dangerously so, 
though the president kept reassuring 
the electorate that nothing drastic 
would be undertaken. 

As the World's Fair opened in 
New York in April, 1964, some 
Americans felt that this might be the 
nation's last hurrah of glory. It was 
apparent that its problems were 
growing more serious. The May, 
1964, issue of Together carried a 
stirring ukase to readers, A Mandate 
to Meddle, which called upon Meth- 
odists to be unashamed over their 
social involvement in society's 
troubles. The September, 1964, 
issue had a denunciation by William 
Stringfellow of the churches of Amer- 



ican white society. They had, he 
wrote, "largely forfeited any claim 
to leadership in the relations be- 
tween the races." 

Events of 1964 were interwoven 
with events of 1965: the Gulf of 
Tonkin episode in August, 1964, 
when North Vietnamese torpedo 
boats allegedly attacked a U.S. de- 
stroyer; the United States retaliation 
by bombing; the defense secretary's 
announcement in April, 1965, that 
the war in Viet Nam would be ac- 
celerated; the protest march from 
Selma to Montgomery, Ala., on 
March 21, 1965; the Watts riot that 
summer; and in August, 1965, Mar- 
tin Luther King, Jr.'s appeal for an 
end to our involvement in Viet Nam 
— for which he was denounced. 

As one studies the sequence of 
events through the sixties, they de- 
scend inescapably into moral decay 
and irresponsibility on the part of 
public officials. When first a vocal 
minority accused the government of 
systematic lying, diplomatic decep- 
tion, and military deceit, these pro- 
testers were branded as kooks, 
deviates, and Communists. It would 
be some years later before the Penta- 
gon Papers would dramatically re- 
veal programmed lying centering in 
the White House. 

In its June, 1966, issue Together 
reported news on the First National 
Interreligious Conference on Peace 
which had met that spring to urge 
a halt to the bombings in Viet Nam, 
an exploration of all avenues of ne- 
gotiation, and opportunities for the 
Vietnamese to settle their own dif- 
ferences. Washington paid little 
attention to voices of concern and 
protest, and the war in Southeast 
Asia continued to expand. By the 
time 1965 ended 1,404 American 
servicemen had been killed in Viet 
Nam, and there were 185,000 U.S. 

troops stationed in that unhappy 
land. Even as there were violent 
deaths in faraway Viet Nam, so in 
the America of 1965 civil-rights work- 
ers Viola Liuzzo and the Rev. lames 
J. Reeb were murdered. 

Nineteen sixty-six was Together's 
tenth anniversary year, and its vari- 
ous issues that year gave evidence of 
the mounting concern over the ero- 
sion of faith and the church's relega- 
tion to a "religious corner." Troubles 
afflicting the social order also were 
afflicting the church. One hopeful 
sign was the talks between the Evan- 
gelical United Brethren Church and 
Methodists projecting a union of the 
two denominations by 1968. 

As 1966 blurred into 1967, the 
Great Society envisioned by Presi- 
dent Johnson faded into a distant 
dream. In his words, Viet Nam had 

South Viet Nam 

now become a "bitter and brutal 
struggle." It was also a struggle at 
home, especially with America's 
youth who questioned all aspects of 
America's involvement. Together's 
March, 1967, issue featured the Rev. 
Robert McAfee Brown's analysis of 
Those Revolting Students. Dr. Brown 
pointed out that there were good 
reasons for the proliferation of vocif- 
erous, raucous students — they were 
rebelling against the increased de- 
personalization of society, adult in- 
consistency, the phoniness of the 
adult world, and a cruel war. The 
drug and hippie culture was bursting 
into full bloom. Permissive attitudes 
toward sex were common. But even 
so, Dr. Brown counseled adults not 
to write off youth as "Commies, 
kooks, and perverts." 

There were now 470,000 troops in 
Viet Nam. Casualties were mounting. 
Search and destroy missions were 
the order of the day. Together's 
July, 1967, issue carried Viet Nam: 
Unanswered Moral Questions, in 

Methodists and EUBs unite 

which the entire brutal conflict was 
aired — the use of napalm and frag- 
mentation bombs, the destruction of 
villages, the brutalization of prison- 
ers. The point of the article was the 
editors' anguished cry that a nation 
cannot remain a moral nation if it 
follows immoral policies. 

The White House and the Pentagon 
continued to pay little attention to 
the cries of distressed citizens. The 
crescendo of violence rose abroad 
and at home. Martin Luther King, 
|r., was murdered in April, 1968, 
and before the nation could recover 
from that horror, Sen. Robert F. 
Kennedy was murdered in June. 
President Johnson stayed away from 
the Democratic convention in Chi- 
cago, but even so, violent protests 
to his war policies set off massive 
demonstrations there. 

And what was going on in the 
churches? Together reported that in 
1957, 69 percent of the American 
population thought that religion was 
/ncreasing its influence. Ten years 
later, 67 percent said religion's in- 
fluence was decreasing and, by 1969, 
that figure was a depressing 70 per- 
cent. Church membership had also 
declined in 1968 by 1.2 percent. 

These were troubled times for the 
churches, though there was rejoicing 
over the officially constituted United 
Methodist Church as one indication 
of positive church activity. But the 
crisis in all of American life — the 
campus uproars, the collapse of the 
inner city, increasing revelations of 
brutality by American troops (My 
Lai happened in 1968 but was hidden 
for a year of so), and the growing 
credibility gap in government — af- 
fected the churches also. Now there 
was increasing reportage about new 
kinds of churches — house churches, 
storefront churches, underground 
churches. Often seminarians were in 
the forefront in demonstrations 
against the war and in burning their 




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draft cards. One Together reader 
complained: "My church shows a 
left-wing political trend." 

Laity and clergy were frequently 
at odds, also, over the "death of 
Cod" theology which surfaced dur- 
ing these years, and many worried 
that the churches would collapse 

This notion was sharpened in 1969 
by the startling demands of the Black 
Manifesto, which asked for one bil- 
lion dollars from America's white 
churches. Concerned Christians 
agreed that terrible injustices had 
indeed been visited upon black peo- 
ple in past generations and redress 
was needed, but how justice could 
be satisfied was not successfully an- 
swered. Men landed twice on the 
moon in 1969, but no one had the 
solution for the festering sores of 
poverty, racial hatreds, Viet Nam, 
and an ecologically disturbed planet. 

On April 20, 1970, President Rich- 
ard M. Nixon announced the with- 
drawal of 150,000 troops from Viet 

Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Nam, and the war was — on the sur- 
face — winding down. Then on April 
30 the President announced the in- 
vasion of Cambodia, and 31,000 
troops were sent into that country. 
It was then that the festering boil of 
unhappiness over the war and all 
its evils exploded — chiefly on Ameri- 
ca's campuses. Youth denounced the 
President, and the President in turn 
called the protesters "these bums 
. . . blowing up the campuses . . . 
burning up the books." 

On Monday, May 4, at Kent State 
University, a unit of the Ohio Na- 
tional Guard fired point-blank at a 
group of demonstrating students. 
Four students were killed and nine 
were wounded. Across the nation 
448 colleges and universities closed 
rather than face indignant students 
and faculties. The repudiation of all 
those old American values — mom, 
apple pie, church on Sunday morn- 

Death at Kent State 

ing — now had become complete. 

Church membership was showing 
a small gain, but church attendance 
had dropped to 42 percent, and 75 
percent of Americans thought that 
religion was losing its influence. 
Church construction was dropping, 
but 1970 saw the first draft of a plan 
for the Church of Christ Uniting, a 
proposed 25-million-member church 
body made up of nine denomina- 
tions. Although the planners were 
enthusiastic, some younger church- 
men felt that COCU was simply a 
plan to reform archaic structures. 

In 1971 mainstream churches 
reached a growth standstill with a 
total of 128,505,084 members out of 
a population of 200 million plus. 
United Methodists reported a mem- 
bership loss of 162,576, though fiscal 
contributions showed a $23 million 
increase over 1970. Many people 
were wondering if it weren't true as 
seminary professor Gibson Winter 
said: "The attempt to perpetuate the 
local parish or congregation as a 
basic unit of the Christian church is 
doomed to failure." Jazz vespers, 
rock music, multimedia worship ser- 
vices, Indian sitar music, and liturgi- 
cal dance seemed a frenetic effort by 
the churches to be relevant. 

Two phenomena far on the periph- 
ery of the organized church demon- 
strated that God was not dead — the 
rise of the Jesus People and the 
charismatic movement. The latter 
exploded within some of the more 
staid churches but then quickly 
crossed all denominational lines. The 
Jesus People were led by young peo- 
ple who wanted to return to the 
simplicity of the gospel. Some estab- 
lished communes and others worked 
within the organized church, which 
often looked rather askance at their 

During all these years Together 
reflected the religious and secular 
scene. Its initial half-million sub- 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

scribers grew to 981,000 in 1959, but 
then a downward drift set in. To- 
gether was not alone in battling cir- 
culation problems. Protestant and 
Catholic periodicals alike suffered 
from the disinterest which was affect- 
ing the churches. Readers complained 
that religious editors aired too many 
unhappy aspects of life. Besides, 
church members seemed to be weary 
of decisions made by national coun- 
cils or hierarchies, and one way they 
could express resentment was to 
cancel or not renew their subscrip- 
tions to denominational publications. 
Whatever the cause, religious journal- 
ism faced almost insurmountable 
problems, and editors frantically 
tried new approaches and new meth- 
ods to halt circulation drops. 

The troubling fact, as the seven- 
ties drifted on, was that somehow, 
some way, there needed to be com- 
munication among church members. 
Clearly, the print media remained 
the best way until the marvels of 
electronic communications had been 
more fully developed and more 
widely used. 

Together has survived for 17 years. 
This is not as long as Life, Look, 
Collier's, and The Saturday Evening 
Post. But Together has stayed alive 
when foundations were crumbling 
and the nation was groaning through 
some of the most cataclysmic events 
it has experienced since the Civil 
War. In Viet Nam almost 50,000 
servicemen have been killed, hos- 
pitals have been bombed, civilians 
have been massacred. At home we 
have seen the rise of a drug culture 
and the rebellion of youth. Thus, 
Tcgether's 200 issues are a reminder 
of the church's triumphs and failures 
in the midst of a society that didn't 
really care much about the church. 

We don't know what the future 
will bring, but in whatever reincar- 
nation Together appears, its editors 
are sure to be facing challenges that 
are just as rugged as the challenges 
of the past. □ 

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1. Robert H. Boyd, I mher Theological Seminary 

2. Louis Cassels, UPI. 

1. Samuel Sandmel, Hebrew Union College. 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


Together: 1956-63 

The Early Years 

By Herman B. Teeter, Associate Editor, Together 

AT LUNCH one day in the late 
1950s, a new staff member asked 
some of us what he could expect 
from his boss, the founding editor of 

"Well," an associate editor said, 
"if you put Leland Case on an un- 
charted jungle island at midnight, he 
would discover a Methodist connec- 
tion before dawn." 

"And by noon," another added, 
"he would have filled a notebook 
with ideas for articles." 

"Then, before the day was over, 
a dozen islanders — none knowing 
the difference between a cowboy 
and a totem pole — would have 
joined The Westerners" [an organiza- 
tion Mr. Case co-founded in the 

Ridiculous? Of course. But there 
was truth enough in the fun we were 
having to highlight the personality, 
inexhaustible enthusiasm, character, 
and editorial skill of Leland David- 
son Case. 

A tall, long-striding, soft-spoken 
South Dakotan with silvery hair and 

artistic hands, he was "drafted" in 
1955 to produce a colorful new 
family magazine to supplant Chris- 
tian Advocate, Methodism's church- 
wide publication founded in 1826. 
In accepting the assignment, he had 
planned to serve as consultant or 
briefly as editor-in-absentia. For sev- 
eral months he did work on plans 
for the new magazine in his adobe 
office near his home on the out- 
skirts of Tucson, Ariz., a climate 
much kinder to his sinuses than that 
of Chicago. What emerged in 
October, 1956, was, according to 
Time, "one of the most ambitious 
ventures in the history of church 
publishing . . ." 

It was unlike Leland Case to stay 
out of the middle of things, how- 
ever, and he would actively edit the 
magazine in Chicago from 1956 to 
late 1963, when he became consul- 
tant until his retirement in 1965. 

From the first issue, Together 

smacked of the editor's long experi- 
ence as a newspaperman and his 
almost 20 years as editor of The 
Rotarian. Backing up its appealing 
covers, color pictorials, and slick 
paper were contributions from many 
"name" writers in religion, fiction, 
politics, world events, art, and the 
humanities — many of whom he had 
cultivated during his years on The 
Rotarian. But the heart of the maga- 
zine was the reader. 

"It is our aim," he said, "to give 
outlet and expression to strata of 
Methodist people who heretofore 
have been voiceless. Through sym- 
posia and letters and such reader- 
made features as pictorials, it 
becomes possible to engender and 
to nurture a new feeling of belong- 
ing and participation. Thus the aver- 
age Methodist — he who sustains his 
local church with his money, his 
time, and his prayers — acquires a 
new voice." 

Readers reacted at once. The 
first reader-participation pictorial — 
America the Beautiful — drew 12,000 


, * e *i>fl»,; / ?*>* Can Coaches Be Christian? 

The Coi * s CHo/c f 

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color transparencies. Children an- 
swered a call for crayon drawings 
with 1,800 entries. 

The Christian religion and The 
Methodist Church were essentially 
what Together was — and is — all 
about. But Leland Case believed also 
that Together should be concerned 
with man and his entire environment. 

In the man himself, one thought 
he discerned a certain shyness often 
found in the very bold. He had an 
iron-willed, sometimes demanding 
persistence in the pursuit of editorial 
goals; he insisted on high standards 
of professional excellence; he set 
his sights on targets which, in his 
secret heart, he may have believed 
we'd never hit dead center. 

Some believed he "manufactured" 
work, for he seemed happiest when 
there was great busyness around him. 
There were frequent differences of 
opinion between the editor and 
some of his writers, but Leland Case 
had his way about as often as a big- 
league baseball umpire. Even his 
close friend, Art Editor Floyd A. 
Johnson, a talented and usually easy- 
going artist with many years of 
experience in his own right, some- 
times found him exasperating. Floyd, 
who was responsible for layouts of 
type and pictures, occasionally had 
to labor over six or seven samples 

before the editor would give his final 
approval. Now and then the veteran 
artist and the veteran editor couldn't 
see eye to eye. Then a figurative door 
slammed, and the frustrated Floyd 
would arrive at home in something 
of a huff. 

Almost invariably when this hap- 
pened, Floyd's phone would ring. It 
would be Leland D. Case, the great 
conciliator, calling. 

"I could be mad as a wet hen one 
minute," Floyd says, "and the next 
I'd be walking ten feet in the air." 

A dedicated churchman himself, 
Floyd left his stamp on virtually every 
page of the magazine from 1956 to 
his retirement in 1967. Scores of his 
paintings appeared on covers and in 
special pictorials and did much to set 
the tone of the magazine's early 

Leland Case was a writer of letters 
and memos; they poured from his 
office in torrents, many the result of 
long nights and weekends at his desk. 
He loved to play with words; he was 
forever seeking new ways of saying 
the same old thing. He spiced his 
letters, memos, and conversation 
with a few favorite Latin, French, and 
Spanish expressions; and if in his 
writing he overused any punctuation 
mark, it was the exclamation point. 
They popped up in his writing with 
regularity, symbolizing his boundless 
enthusiasm for what he had to say. 

He had much to say in those days 

when he held forth in The Methodist 
Publishing House building on Rush 
Street in Chicago. Churchly visitors 
there were startled to find that the 
staid old structure had become sur- 
rounded by one of the city's hottest 
night spots, and the flashing neons 
along the street were in marked con- 
trast to the third-floor corner office 
where the editor of Together worked 
alone far into the night. 

Mostly, it would seem, he was 
burying himself in Methodist lore 
while the pleasure-seekers milled 
around outside. The editor kept a 
continuous historic documentary on 
The Methodist Church running on 
instant replay through his mind. He 
was as much a historian — and history 
teacher — as he was an editor; he 
earnestly aspired to teach Methodists 
their heritage. The first 14 issues of 
Together, for example, contained 
eight articles and pictorials on John 
Wesley, the founder of Methodism; 
six on his brother Charles; one on 
their mother, Susanna. 

Then he "discovered" Capt. 
Thomas Webb, the (in his own 
words) "brave old red-coated loyalist 
and practical man of affairs . . . who 
felled the first trees to build an 
American church where more than 
10 million people worship today." 

Eight years after his retirement 

irom Together, he still wants Meth- 
odism to know that Thomas Webb 
s its number one layman, and he 
idfastly insists that the old soldier 
hasn't received the recognition he 
deserve 1 ;. 

He commissioned various artists, 
including Floyd Johnson, to re-create 
the significant scenes from the Meth- 
odist past; he and his research staff 
dug deep to give historic color 
paintings their authenticity. 

"It's all-important for the sake of 
accuracy," he memoed in regard to 
a painting of Captain Webb, "that 
we be correct on costume details. 
And these hang on the regiment to 
which he belonged . . . What were 
the military boots of the day? Would 
they have buttons on the side like 
gaiters? . . . Also check stirrups and 
bridles — which should be of the 
types used in Revolutionary days." 

But Together, under the editorship 
of Leland D. Case, was not just a 
history magazine. Actually, only a 
very small part of material published 
was historic; but what he did in the 
genre may in the future be rec- 
ognized as his most important con- 
tribution to Methodistica. He did it 
better and in a more appealing, 
readable, and authentic way than it 
had ever been done before. 

Together was a contemporary 
inspirational magazine, chock-full of 
articles and pictorials on youth, mar- 
riage, world peace, space exploration, 
missions, moral problems, nature, 
sports, and the problems of everyday 
people. He was concerned about the 
plight of the American Indian, and he 
had a sort of editorial hang-up on 
dogs and children. 

"Would you ask the artist what 
kind of dog he's painting?" he 
queried. "We just have to have a dog 
in the picture, but couldn't we have 
a better looking mutt?" It was hardly 
surprising that the cover of the first 
issue presented twin girls and a 
collie. For a number of years, every 
January cover was devoted to a New 
Year's baby, with other children 
scattered through following months. 

Although he had become nation- 
ally known as an editor before he 
took on the job of founding Meth- 
odism's "bold new venture in church 
journalism" at age 55, he often 

Leland D. Case, Together's first editor. 

pointed out that he preferred not to 
be a "limelighter." In getting jobs 
done, he said, "I've tried to heed the 
advice from a friend long ago: 'You'd 
be surprised how much will be done 
if nobody cares who gets the 
credit.' " 

During his editorship, Together 
won many awards for editorial and 
typographical excellence; and the 
editor himself was the recipient of 
merit awards and Litt.D. degrees 
from several colleges and univer- 
sities. He recognized his doctorates as 
honorary and smilingly cautioned his 
colleagues: "Don't ever call me Dr. 
Case!" He had spent most of his 
first 26 years in academe, and his 
interest in education — particularly 
Methodist related — is reflected in al- 
most every issue he edited. 

Behind his large desk, groaning 
with papers and manuscripts, he 
could — and would — talk for hours 
about the magazine. It was the 
teacher in him that led to long lec- 
tures on the "how and why" of To- 
gether. When the work was done on 
one issue (and proceeding on four 
or five issues ahead), he went over 
the latest copy with a critical eye, 
passing it around to staff members 
with his scrawled, barely readable 
comments on articles, type, layouts, 
and pictures. 

And so it went with the South 
Dakota Methodist preacher's kid, 
reporter, editor, antiquarian, orga- 
nizer of special groups, espouser of 
causes, Republican, Mason, and 
Rotarian. He had not forgotten the 
Black Hills and the sod-hut country 
where he grew up with an older 
brother, the late Sen. Francis Case; 
the magazine he edited reflected the 

good things of life as well as the 
evil; he was aware of his Methodist 
roots, he didn't want readers to for- 
get them. At the same time he kept 
to his favorite theme, that "of meet- 
ing readers where they are" — in the 
small-town church, the big-city 
church, or out there somewhere in 
"God's Great Big Wonderful World." 

After retiring from Together, Le- 
land Case went to the University of 
the Pacific in Stockton, Calif., to 
edit The Pacific Historian. It was ap- 
propriate that The Rotarian, 23 years 
after his leave-taking, would bring 
the man up to date in an editorial 
comment last January: 

"Now it does appear that he has 
retired for good to his house on the 
flowering desert 11 miles east of 
Tucson, where his wife, 'Joan,' 
pursues her many arts, including 
cactus culture, and where Leland 
tends the fires of Westerners Inter- 
national, a worldwide organization of 
persons interested in the old 
frontiers . . . 

"A colorful and brilliant editor- 
manager whose pedagogy with his 
younger staff people was in part 
based on reiteration, Leland spoke 
often of the desideratum we would 
one day reach. We haven't a doubt 
we will." 

Those of us on Together, ten years 
after the active Case era ended, feel 
the same way. We hope to reach the 
desideratum with the new magazine, 
United Methodists Today. If we do, 
or if we don't, we have a feeling 
that we will hear from Leland D. 
Case— one way or another. □ 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

From May, 1966 

Highlights of Methodist History 

Schoenfeld Collection 
from Three Lions 

1766: Two Irish immigrants, laymen both, 
are preaching to Methodist societies in 
the colonies: Philip Embury in New York, 
Robert Strawbridge in Maryland. 

1768: The first Methodist building in New 
York is erected on John Street, and is 
named Wesley Chapel in honor of Meth- 
odism's founder. 

1769: "We have a pressing call from our 
brethren of New York," John Wesley tells 
the English conference. "Who is willing 
to go?" Richard Boardman and Joseph 
Pilmoor are the first volunteers. Mean- 
while, in Philadelphia, a Methodist so- 
ciety occupies St. George's, the first Meth- 
odist building to be called a church. 

1771: Francis Asbury — destined to be- 
come the father of Methodism in Amer- 
ica — arrives from England. In 44 years, 
he will ride 265,000 miles and preach 
more than 16,000 times. 

1773: In Philadelphia, the first confer- 
ence of Methodist societies marks the 
real beginning of organized Methodism 
in America. 

1775: The American Revolution forces 
the English preachers to return home, but 
the iron-willed Asbury remains. He re- 
stricts, but does not end, his work here 

1784: The Methodist Episcopal Church 
is organized at the historic Christmas 
Conference in Baltimore. Thomas Coke 
and Francis Asbury are selected to be its 
first bishops. Present are 60 preachers. 

1785: Cokesbury College in Maryland is 
the first in a long line of Methodist- 
related schools which total more than 
130 today. 

1787: Extensive Negro withdrawals begin 
when Richard Allen leads a small prayer 
group from St. George's in Philadelphia. 
From this and similar groups have grown 
such bodies as the African Methodist 
Episcopal Church, the A.M.E. Zion 
Church, the Christian Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, and other Negro branches. 

1789: The Book Concern (later known as 
The Methodist Publishing House) is es- 
tablished to publish, sell, and distribute 
religious literature. 

1790: Jesse Lee preaches in New England, 
until now bypassed by the rapidly grow- 
ing church. 

1800: The camp-meeting era dawns on 
the frontier. Thousands are converted or 
"felled" in religious frenzy, but most 
Methodist preachers do not encourage 
"jerks" and "jumping exercises." 

Lynn Ward 

1806: A new breed of native-born 
preacher leads Methodism westward. 
Old McKendree Chapel near Cape 
Girardeau, Mo., symbolizes expansion 
beyond the Mississippi River. 

1816: John Stewart, a drunken mulatto 
converted at a Methodist meeting, 
preaches to the Wyandot Indians in Ohio. 
His work will lead three years later to 
formation of the Missionary and Bible 

1830: Another group opposed to the 
powers of the episcopacy withdraws to 
form the Methodist Protestant Church. 

1833: The first overseas missionary work 
begins with the arrival of Melville Cox 
in Africa. He will die in five months, but 
work is well underway in Liberia. 

1844: Northern and Southern churches 
split, with slavery "the occasion, if not 
the cause" of the Great Division. 

1847: A Methodist-controlled biblical 
institute will provide training for young 
ministers at Concord, N.H., but contro- 
versy continues over the need for sem- 
inary training and a better educated 

Lynn Ward 

1861: The Civil War erupts, and hundreds 
of Methodist chaplains serve in both 

At the end of the war, Harper's Weekly 
will note that Methodism "for good or 
for ill has become the predominant ec- 
clesiastical fact of the nation. The official 
census places it numerically far in ad- 
vance of any other American religious 
body . . ." 

1866: In far-reaching and significant ac- 
tion, the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
South — while observing the first centen- 
nial of the Methodist movement in Amer- 
ica — moves toward approval of lay repre- 
sentation, election of delegates by district 
conferences, and extension of pastoral 
terms beyond two years. 

1876: Delegates at the General Confer- 
ence in Baltimore now look forward to 
the day "when there shall be one Meth- 
odism for mankind" — but that day re- 
mains far distant. 

1884: North and South join in celebrat- 
ing the 100th anniversary of the organized 
church, but the Methodist Protestant 
Church does not participate. 

1891: John R. Mott, layman and Meth- 
odism's chief contribution to the ecu- 
menical movement, is abroad to begin 
his 65-year mission toward world unity 
of non-Roman churches. 



1939: Reunion! At Kansas City, the three 
major branches of Methodism — the 
Methodist Episcopal Church, the Meth- 
odist Episcopal Church, South, and the 
Methodist Protestant Church — become 
The Methodist Church. 

1966: Methodists will meet in Chicago 
this November to vote on proposed 
union with the 750,000-member Evan- 
gelical United Brethren Church. 

November-Dei emhrr IT! TOGfTHER 



From November, 1959 
No. 6 in a series on "People Called Methodists": 


The boy, age IS, at London's Charterhouse school. 
Below: his rescue from the Epworth Rectory fire. 

Samuel and Susanna, 
proud parents of 19. 

Formative years: the methodical tutelage of his well-educated mother had 
a profound influence on fohn. Susanna was both religious and independent. 
When Samuel was absent she began holding services in the home because she 
did not believe the assistant curate's sermons were adequate for her family. 



'NE DARK NIGHT in 1709, 
flames crackled through the thatched 
roof and roared through the home 
of the Rev. Samuel Wesley near 
Epworth, England. As neighbors 
raced to help with buckets of water, 
a cry and sob swept the spectators. 
They saw the face of five-year-old 
John at a second-story window. At 
the last minute, a husky youth 
mounted the shoulders of bystanders 
and pulled the small boy to safety. 

"A brand plucked from the burn- 
ing!" was John's later prayerful 
explanation. His mother loved all her 
children — but from that day the bril- 
liant and beautiful Susanna Wesley 
believed Jackie's miraculous deliver- 
ance meant that God had in store for 
him a great destiny. 

History proved her right. For her 
Jackie to be remembered as the 
founder of Methodism alone would 
have been destiny enough, for the 
Methodist movement today num- 
bers 40 million adherents in more 
than 50 nations. It started at Oxford 
where John and his brother, Charles, 
were leaders of a small group of stu- 
dents in the Holy Club. 

John Wesley was born June 17, 
1703 (old style), one of 19 children 
who lived, or died, in the rectory at 
Epworth. As a young Anglican 
priest, he undertook a mission to the 
Indians and settlers in colonial 
Georgia. Later, because the doors of 
the English Church were closed to 
him, he took to the fields — was later 
to say, "The world is my parish." He 
preached some 40,000 sermons; 
traveled, mostly on horseback, 250,- 
000 miles; wrote 440 books, tracts, 

The bookworms: the brothers John and 
Charles read on long wallas together. 
Frequently one would stray off the 
road, or blunder into \nee-deep mud! 

Calm Moravians in a storm, 
en route to Georgia, stabbed 
John with a Jeeling that his 
own faith lacked a vital spar\. 

His missionary wor\ among the 
Georgia colonists and Indians in 1736 
was a disappointment to John. Deeply 
concerned, he returned to England. 

Methodism was bom in a university — a tradition it cherishes. At Christ 
Church College, Oxford, John (right) and Charles were leaders of the Holy 
Club, first organized to study the Scriptures. Members had such stern rules 
of study and piety that less reverent students called them "Methodists." 

His awakening: the pivotal event in Wesley's life came at the 
meeting of a pious society on Alders gate Street, London, in 
1738. He attended somewhat unwillingly, but found his heart 
"strangely warmed." At long last, he had found his faith! 

Though Wesley was an Anglican clergyman, the church resented his "enthusiasm." So he preached 
wherever he could, often facing murderous mobs such as this one at Wednesbury. 

It was not Wesley's nature to waste time while traveling 250,000 miles. 
He fitted a des\ into his coach, writing sermons and even boo\s on the road. 

and pamphlets. He faced rioting 
mobs, but emerged unharmed and 
became revered and respected. 

Most portraits create the impres- 
sion of a stern, humorless, rather 
grim and single-minded man. To 
know the real John Wesley — the 
warm, human personality who had 
a sincere concern for people — we 
must turn to his letters and to com- 
mentaries of his contemporaries. 
True, he had profound religious con- 
victions, but he was also an open- 
minded man who said, on most 
matters, "The Methodists alone do 
not insist on your holding this or 
that opinion; but they think and let 

His physician and biographer, Dr. 
John Whitehead, wrote: "It was 
impossible to be long in his com- 
pany, either in public or private, 
without partaking of his placid cheer- 

Alexander Knox wrote that chil- 
dren, as well as serious-minded 
adults, enjoyed his company. But it 
is doubtful that Wesley — an intel- 
lectual giant and the most pious of 
men — really understood children. 

24 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Mrs. John Wesley: she found the life 
of an evangelist's wife to be intolerable. 

Certainly, he didn't understand 
women. His love affair with Sophia 
Hopkey in Georgia didn't work out, 
and later in England, Charles Wesley 
broke up his brother's romance with 
Grace Murray. When at the age of 47 
he married the widowed Mrs. 
Vazeille, he chose a woman whose 
temperament wasn't fitted to his 
travels and his dedicated life. She 
died several years after leaving him, 
but he learned of her death too late 
to attend her funeral. 

Physically, he was not an imposing 
man. He was five feet four inches 
tall, weighed less than 130 pounds. 
His hands, wrists, and ankles were 
small; his nose aquiline; his dark eyes 
vivid and compelling. He believed 
"sour godliness is the devil's reli- 
gion" and that Methodists should be 
a joyous, singing people. His interests 
were universal. He experimented in 
medicine because he wanted to re- 
lieve human suffering. In his life- 
time, he gave away $200,000, died at 
age 87, purposely poor. 

Prominent people, as well as the 
humble, delighted in his companion- 
ship. One was Dr. Samuel Johnson, 
England's eminent man of letters. 
But Dr. Johnson once told Boswell: 
"I hate to meet John Wesley. The 
dog enchants you with his conversa- 
tion, and then breaks away to go 
and visit some old woman." Thus, in 
one episode, Dr. Johnson gave clue 
and testimony of Wesley's concern 
for people — a characteristic that has 
stamped Methodism to this day. 

He frequently exhorted in fields and coalpits of England. A favorite spot 
was Gwennap pit amphitheater where it is said 30,000 once heard him. 

"The best of all, God is with us," were Wesley's last words. Below is an 
artist's idealised conception of the followers gathered around his deathbed. 

The Family 
Amid Challenge 
and Change 

Martha Ross — February, 1962 


he family survives. What alarmists feared 
during years of unprecedented social change hasn't 
happened. The church, taking note, drew attention to the 
importance of the Christian family as a powerful 
force for good in the world — and this was reflected 
year after year in Together. 

"Anyone who would abolish the family," we 
wrote in the September, 1962, issue, "has a few 
million little fortresses to knock over." True, age-old 
problems look on new aspects, and suddenly the family 
found itself under examination. 

John F. McMahon, a leading social welfare 
executive, observed: "Over the past three or four 

decades, the family has been scrutinized, criticized, 
praised, condemned, dissected, pummeled. ... It has 
even been declared obsolete. . . . [But] it was 
found ultimately that the family was far tougher than 
the forces that sought to suppress it . . . 

"This is no surprise. The forces that make a 
family . . . are marvelously powerful. ... If the 
world and its social changes shape the family, we can be 
sure that the family, in comparable measure, shapes 
the world and brings about social changes." 

Respect, trust, sacrifice, Christian devotion, 
love — these are the forces that hold the family together 
in a world of challenge and constant change. 

26 November Dccmber 197!) TOGETHER 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 27 

From February, 1961 





How would you explain your faith? Here 

is what one layman — a journalist — told fellow Methodists 

when asked to discuss the "why" of his beliefs. 


HEN THE program chairman 
of our Methodist Men asked me to 
participate in a panel discussion and 
explain in five minutes why I am 
a Methodist, I agreed without hesita- 
tion. It sounded simple enough. But 
when I finally tried to put my think- 
ing into words, I suspected my 
explanation had more words and 
form than truth and meaning. 

I sought my wife's reaction. 

"I doubt they'll know what you're 
talking about," she said with her 
usual directness when I had finished 
reading. "Why don't you tell them 
you're really a Methodist because 
you simply don't like to be told what 
you must do about anything — even 

There was more to her comment 
than a small joke at my expense. I 
tore up the words and phrases so 
carefully compiled and asked myself 
again: "Why am I a Methodist?" 
Slowly the real answers came. 

I am a Methodist because Meth- 
odism gives me an opportunity to 
make up my mind; because this 

understanding church accepts me as 
I am, and where I am, on my pro- 
fession that I am a stumbling, failing 
searcher for God and that I believe 
in Jesus as his Son. 

I am a Methodist because Method- 
ism presents me with a chance to 
decide for myself; because its wide 
dimensions guide, stimulate, and in- 
spire its members — and, indeed, all 
who will heed its call — to lead 
Christian lives; because it avoids 
imposition of a theological dictator- 
ship which could narrow and warp 
my personal search for God. 

True, I was born of Methodist 
parents, reared in a Methodist home, 
and early enrolled into a Methodist 
Sunday school. I could almost say 
that I believe in God because it runs 
in the family. 

Hut this accounts only for the first 
few years of my life. There followed 
a period when, in the careless 
wisdom of young manhood, I de- 
cided it made no difference whether 
a man went to church — any church 
— or not. When more mature judg- 

ment led me to recognize the need 
of every man tor church association, 
I might have turned to any one of 
many denominations. 

I came back to Methodism because 
its doctrine, its philosophy, and its 
path toward God through Jesus 
Christ gave me both the intel- 
lectual freedom and the strong and 
vibrant challenge I sought. 

I am a Methodist because I find 
Methodism a chart which helps me 
steer a course, not merely a vehicle 
on undeviating tracks to which I 
must give blind and unquestioning 
faith; because the Discipline provides 
me with direction without being 
dogmatic; because the Methodist 
government is the most democratic 
of any church I know, giving me a 
voice if I care to raise it. 

I am a Methodist because The 
Methodist Church, even with the 
faults it has, is a learning and grow- 
ing church. I am thinking of growth 
in aspiration rather than in numbers; 
of learning as a zeal for new dis- 
covery and higher truth. 

As a Methodist, I can be strong 
in my belief and my faith, yet see 
good and wisdom in the sincere be- 
liefs of other men whose ways are 
not my ways but who also share a 
desire for the ultimate truth of the 
goodness of God. 

I am a Methodist because conduct 
rather than creed is the test of mem- 
bership because Methodism, above all 
other faiths, emphasizes the personal 

I am a Methodist because The 
Methodist Church presents a religion 
of challenge and widening perspec- 
tive; because I am free to find for 
myself the love and power of God, 
the truth and wonder of the Bible, 
and the fellowship of Jesus Christ, 
without being bound by limits 
prescribed by priest or pope or the 
theological decisions of other men. 

Methodism gives me hope when 
I stumble and the truth of a forgiv- 
ing and understanding God ever and 
personally available when I seek 
him in humility and sincerity. It 
accepted me as a child and gave me 
room to grow and learn, not in a 
vacuum of dusty and predetermined 
theology but in an atmosphere of 
free inquiry and widening horizons. 

In the phrases of others, I am a 
Methodist because my church "with- 
out laying down any pattern of ex- 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

perience in repentance, faith, conver- 
sion, or assurance . . . has proclaimed 
that a life of joy and peace should 
flow from fellowship with Christ 
and his people"; because my church 
"is broad enough to embrace all who 
worship and serve Jesus Christ . . . 
preaching a Gospel large enough to 
meet the spiritual needs of all men." 

I am a Methodist because mv 
church gives me work to do and 
opportunity to use my talents in its 
growth and outreach. 

I am a Methodist because, as a 
writer myself, I recognize the 
thought, the study, and the careful 
craftsmanship and scholarship in its 
literature; because I believe in the 
honesty of the writers and editors 
who produce that literature, even 
when I disagree with their view- 
points; and because when I honestly 
disagree I can express my contrary 
opinion and know it will be read. 

The Methodist Church is not static 
in its thinking, its theology, its writ- 
ing, or — for the most part — in its 
preaching. Whatever else it may 
have lost since its founding, it has 
never lost its courage. 

I am a Methodist because Meth- 
odism can speak clearly, loudly, and 
firmly for its convictions and for the 
right as we see it — and yet hear 
with good will and tolerance the 
sincere convictions of those not shar- 
ing its views. 

I am a Methodist because I believe, 
as Dr. Gilbert T. Rowe states: 

". . . Among Protestants, Method- 
ism stands for an inclusive Christian- 
ity. It believes that the things that 
unite Christians are far more 
important than the things that 
divide. It has no exclusive doctrines, 
rites, or ceremonies." 

I believe with the late Bishop 
Charles C. Selecman that Meth- 
odism "teaches that all men are in- 
cluded in the Atonement and the 
Gospel invitation; that all must 
repent and believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ; that all followers of Christ 
may have access to the sacraments 
of Baptism and the Lord's Supper; 
and that ordination of any estab- 
lished evangelical church is valid." 

I am a Methodist because with 
The Methodist Church I can repeat 
and maintain the words of John 
Wesley: "Is thy heart right, as my 
heart is with thine? ... I give thee 
the right hand of fellowship." 





This is a systematic study of the 
sacraments and other means of grace 
as they function within John Wes- 
ley's salvation theology. The author 
relates the sacraments to Wesley's 
doctrines of preventing, convincing, 
justifying, and sanctifying grace, 
using Wesley's own writings for doc- 

Bishop Borgen considers Wesley's 
teachings on the sacraments, specif- 
ically examining their function, the 
work of the Holy Spirit, the means 
of grace, baptism, the Lord's Sup- 
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sacramental sacrifice. The meaning 
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expectation with which United Meth- 
odists may approach them are cen- 
trally expressed by the author. Bibli- 
ography. $10.75 


A Theological Biography 

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The dichotomy of Wesley's personal- 
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Using information from the new 
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edition of his widely used book. 
Changes adopted at the 1972 General 
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Church are reflected in the revisions 
and additions. 

A valuable reference book for all 
United Methodists, this is designed 
for easy use by both lay persons and 
ministers. It covers the whole range 
of the United Methodist organiza- 

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Methodist Church is seen as a caring, 
sharing group of Christians seeking 
to spread the Good News through 
both personal commitment and social 
action. $3.50, paper 

at your cokesbury bookstore 


the book publishing deportment of 
the united methodist publishing house 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 29 



by Keith I. Pom 

Editor, Michigan Christian Advocate 

Because of the massive advertising 
of several private agencies with "adop- 
tion-by-mail" programs, many church 
members begin to feel that these are 
the major organizations helping the 
hungry orphans of the world. This is 
unfortunate. The quantity of service de- 
livered to the children who are left 
homeless and hungry by war and nat- 
ural disaster is in no way related to the 
quantity of advertising. 

Frequently when United Methodists 
see the large ads on billboards, maga- 
zines, and television that encourage 
them to sponsor or "adopt" a child in 
need, they fail to remember that their 
Church has been carrying on this vital 
ministry for over 100 years. The United 
Methodist Church through its Board of 
Global Ministries cares for more than 
a million children in 1,195 hospitals, 
homes, schools, and orphanages. These 
institutions serve children in almost 
every state in the country and in 32 
other nations across the globe. The 
members of The United Methodist 
Church provide food, home, and loving 
care for 50,000 orphans in South Viet- 
nam, an education for 80,000 boys and 
girls in Rhodesia, hope for thousands 
of Bengali refugee children, to mention 
but a few examples. 

There are no dramatic ads on road- 
side billboards, no heart-tugging ap- 
peals on radio or television. 

"Why not?" the man in the pew 
asks. There are two reasons: First, the 
United Methodist mission depends up- 
on the trust and loyalty of United Meth- 
odists. It depends upon the promotional 
concern of the local church Work Area 
Chairman on Missions, upon the link of 
communication with the district and 
conference and national Boards of 
Global Ministries. It depends upon the 
United Methodist "family" to care 


enough to listen, to hear the story of 
the tremendous work of their missions. 
A second reason is one of stewardship. 

The United Methodist Church has 
long believed that a dollar given to 
ministry should be a dollar spent in 
ministry. While some of the private 
agencies, splendid and noble as their 
purpose may be, spend from 20 to 50 
per cent of the dollar given on adver- 
tising and administration, The United 
Methodist Church spends less than 10 
per cent. When a United Methodist 
gives a dollar to an Advance Special 
(a gift beyond the local church's World 
Service offering which goes to maintain 
regular mission work) every cent goes 
directly to the mission designated by 
the giver without any overhead ex- 
pense deducted. 

"You can't adopt a particular, indi- 
vidual child through the Advance like 
you can those groups where you can 
adopt by mail!" says the protagonist to 
the church's mission program. That's 

right, but did the critic ever stop to think 
of how much food he takes away from 
the hungry child because he demands 
"personal," "direct" contact? Would 
he at least guess how much wasted re- 
sources of time and effort go into trans- 
lating letters and mailing photographs? 
Furthermore, did the critic ever con- 
sider what it must be like when an 
orphan with a generous and conscien- 
tious sponsor receives a shower of 
gifts at Christmas or birthday, while the 
child in the next bed with a less sensi- 
tive or generous sponsor receives 
none? What would it be like in the 
critic's own family if grandma and 
grandpa send bundles of gifts to the 
critic's oldest and youngest children 
and ignored the one in the middle? 

No, in the United Methodist system 
of giving one does not adopt a particu- 
lar child; one adopts an orphanage, or 
a hospital, or a school where there is 
no favoritism or child "left out." In a 
United Methodist mission care is ex- 
tended equally on the basis of need; 
love and compassion make a circle 
that reaches out to all the children alike. 

Thousands of children and hundreds 
of missionaries depend upon the sen- 
sible stewardship and sensitive concern 
of the church people in the pew. Does 
the "grassroots" Christian only care 
when he is pampered with personal 
attention or appealed to by massive ad- 
vertising? Jesus told us about separat- 
ing the sheep and the goats, those who 
did and those who did not "unto the 
least of these, my brothers," without 
fanfare or deferred credit toward later 

NOTE: The Board of Global Ministries ac- 
knowledges with gratitude this article origi- 
nally prepared for the Michigan Christian 
Advocate by Keith I. Pohl, and reproduced 
with slight modifications, with Mr. Pohl's 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 



Why not give a gift to one of a million children? The gift can be given as a present 
in the name of a relative or friend ... a wonderful way to share Christian love. 






Please send your gift through your local Church, Annual Conference 
or direct to: 

Room 1439, 475 Riverside Drive, New York, N.Y. 10027 

Here is my gift of $ 

Please designate my gift through the Division checked below: 


American Indian Christian Boarding Children— West 

Children Schools, India African Famine 

This gift is given in the NAME of 


Please send further details on the United Methodist Child Support 
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am particularly interested in finding out more about. 

Name of donor. 






The United Methodist Child Support Program is an official program ol the 
General Board ol Global Ministries, with all child-care institutions approved 
as General Advance Specials. 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 31 

From March, 1957 

I »i( Personal Testimony 


Is Not 


By E. Stanley Jones 

Most of us waste time and energy 

meeting life's decisions. 

Here a great evangelist gives you 

the key to serene living. 

Methodism's globe-girdling missionary , Dr. E. Stanley 
Jones, preaches along the streets of Vellore, India. 


.Y PLANE was delayed, and it 
was 5 a.m. before I got to my room. 
I had not slept for some 20 hours, 
yet before getting into bed, I set 
about doing my regular bedtime 
exercises: push-ups, knee bends, 
hands-over-bead — 30 of each. 

Perhaps such behavior was a bit 
strenuous for a man 11. But bed- 
time exercises are so much a part of 
my daily routine that I did them 
without debate. 

Most of us, I think, waste time 
and energy struggling with decisions 
to get things done. Actually, we can 
cultivate a routine to help us live 
energetic and worth-while lives. 

Not long ago some scientists gave 
a group of athletes pills containing 
dextrose. At the same time a con 

trol group received similar but in- 
effective tablets. The athletes who 
took dextrose exceeded all their 
previous records. But so did those 
who merely thought they were get- 
ting stimulants. 

In Japan, a guest visiting in a 
home is greeted formally with the 
words, "You must be tired." 

My response is always the same: 
"I am fresh in God." For I have 
found that if I allow myself to say, 
"I'm tired," then I become tired, 

In the same way, our physical 
natures can influence our minds and 
spirits. A middle-aged man can 
have the good life fattened right out 
of him until he becomes as stuffed 
.\nd stuffy as his purse. We cannot 

hand the body over to the doctor, 
the mind to the psychiatrist, and the 
soul to the minister, treating each 
part of ourselves as separate. Life is 
a whole. 

In India our Christian ashramas, 
or retreats, recognize this balance 
by including daily manual labor. 
Big businessmen, doctors, bishops 
work with their hands. My own job 
has long been to go around with a 
bag and sharp stick picking up 

The same applies to mental labor. 
I carry a pocket-sized book almost 
everywhere; when a free moment 
presents itself, I'm prepared to read 
and think. In another pocket I carry 
a notebook. When an apt story or a 
new idea comes mv way, I jot it 


November-December 1973 TOCI Till R 

down. Perhaps I can use that pass- 
ing thought in writing a book or in 
telling a friend. The important thing 
is that I've forced my mind to do 
some creative work. When our hu- 
man personalities cease to create, we 
crack and even grow tired of rest- 
ing or doing nothing. 

A woman once told me, "I'm 
about to jell into the kind of woman 
I don't want to be." How could she 
avoid stagnation? By watching for 
ideas and challenging each one! 

If physical and mental work is a 
necessary part of life's rhythm, so 
is recreation. I am fond of fly-fishing 
because it, like all true diversion, 
adds to life instead of subtracting. 
If we have to recover from any pas- 
time — physically, mentally, or moral- 
ly — it is false. Recreation should be 

Those are some of the ways we 
can energize our minds and bodies. 
But the spirit needs flexing, too. 
Without spiritual poise, we destroy 
our vitality in worry. 

In the drought-ridden Southwest 
not long ago, a man asked a cow- 
boy about some clouds in the sky. 
The cowboy looked up, shook his 
head, and replied, "They're just 
empties drifting by." Too many of 
us are spiritual empties. Indeed, the 
most frequent stain on the Christian 
soul is emptiness. 

Yet we can be easily filled. The 
art of living is the art of receptivity, 
the ability to take God's resources 
as our own. Consider Gandhi. In 
our astonishing 20th century, we 
have seen the discovery of two great 
sources of power: the atom and the 
atma, that word which in India 
means soul. Gandhi's soul-force 
changed the course of history; his 
demonstration is a major contribu- 
tion to mankind. How did the Ma- 
hatma — the Great Soul — fill himself 
with spiritual vitality? Once I stayed 
with him at his famed ashrama. 
Each week he and his followers ob- 
served a day of silence, putting the 
spirit in order, practicing the art of 

"Don't try to do people good; love 
them." Such is the advice of the 
Indian poet, Tagore. It is an answer 
to the busy life of action without 
reflection. Our inner life sets 
straight our values and priorities. 
"But seek ye first the kingdom of 
God, and his righteousness; . . ." If 
we get the first thing first, life will 

come out right. If not, nothing will. 

Doctors say that worriers have 
frail bodies, with measurably narrow 
chests. From a spiritual viewpoint, 
worry is even worse: we are sin- 
fully saying that God is not to be 

For the Christian, anxiety is so 
unnecessary. I have not had a blue 
hour of discouragement for 35 years. 
There have been moments of flitting 
disappointment, of course, but not 
for so much as an hour. My solu- 
tion? When a large problem looms, 
I simply say, "Lord, I turn this over 
to you. Tell me what to do." 

The secret is surrender, a willing- 
ness to forgo a selfish first choice. 
To discover and follow the Lord's 
plan for us, we need to exercise our 
souls. Each day I get up early to 
spend the pure, strong hours of the 
morning in a quiet time with God. It 
is then that I get my orders for the 

This quiet time is as firm a habit 
as my nightly exercises; I have never 
had to decide to do it. That's an 
important point for someone still 
fixing this habit: to find an unvary- 
ing quiet time each day. No human 
creature is too busy to find a daily 
interval with God. We can always 
answer the phone and eat breakfast; 
our quiet time should be even more 

Next, we must pray — even if we 
don't feel like it, even if we must 
pray by the clock, even if our prayers 
are clumsy. A fashionable woman in 
Texas came to me with a problem; 
her home was breaking up. We 
prayed together, and I urged her to 
continue praying regularly. Later 
she admitted that she hadn't known 

Her solution was to write a letter. 
"Dear God," she wrote, "life has 
dealt me a very bad hand. Please 
show me which card to lead. Sin- 
cerely," and she signed her name. 
Her prayer was answered, her home 
saved. Today that woman speaks to 
church groups all over Texas as an 
authority on marriage problems. 

We Christians are so fortunate. 
Our religion is piety set to music. 
The Christian who will use his soul 
has a hair-trigger laugh and an inner 
gaiety. His joy is an inside job. 
Within him is a harmony that 
unites mind, body, and spirit, and 
makes his energetic life worth- 





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November-Dfcember 1973 TOGETHER 33 

My 40 Days and Ntehl 

From April, 1959 



*N THE evening of August 18, 
1958, just before sunset, I was nearing 
my home at Fort National in the 
Atlas Mountains area of north-central 
Algeria. After a long day of driving 
from Algiers, where I had placed our 
children in a summer church camp, 
I mechanically swung the car around 
the curves through a wooded gorge. 
Suddenly, armed men in uniform 
motioned me to stop. They were 
members of Algeria's "National 
Liberation Army." 

Civilians stopped in this way, I 
knew, were generally killed on the 
spot or were never heard from again. 
Usually these victims were French- 
men, or sometimes Moslems who, for 
one reason or another, were sought 
by the rebels. We Methodist mission- 
aries were seldom molested. So I ex- 
pected, as I pulled to a stop, to be 
allowed to continue on my way. 

I was wrong. This commando 
group had orders to stop the first car 
that came along and take all occu- 
pants prisoner. Nor did they take 
time then to check my papers. 

With my hands tied behind my 
back, I was led off by one of the 
soldiers. He urged me on with a sub- 
machine gun, repeating: "We are 
just in what we are doing. We carry 
out orders." He seemed as nervous 
as I was, so I merely said, "OK, 
Chief," and walked into the hills. 

The other soldiers, who had stayed 
behind to clean out the car and burn 
it, soon joined us and checked my 
identification papers. But my hopes 
of being released were blasted when 
1 was told: "You're going to see a 
lot. You will have to see our leader 
before you are released." 

As I observed my captors more 
closely, my fear gave way to reas- 
surance. These men were just like 
the men and boys I had worked and 
lived with for years. A bit later, when 
I'd had time for prayer and medita- 
tion, I became still calmer. I prayed 
the Lord to help me stay true, to do 

34 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

/ was led off by one of 

the soldiers. He urged me on with a 

sub-machine gun, repeating: 

" We are just in what we are doing. 

We carry out orders." 

Vith the Algerian Rebels 

hudist missionary nnw in the United States 

his will. I asked to be given the 
strength, if I was to die, to die as a 
Christian should. I prayed for my 
wife and children, and I sought to 
set myself right with God. 

In the five years I had served with 
The Methodist Church in Algeria I 
had become aware of conditions 
which in 1954 caught the Kabyles up 
in a nationalist rebellion against the 
* French, who have ruled the land 
since 1830. The Kabyles, an amiable 
and intelligent people, are part of the 
larger grouping of Berber people who 

live in North Africa. They are Mos- 
lems, as are most Algerians. 

As the country flamed with rebel- 
lion, The Methodist Church main- 
tained neutrality. Our work was 
respected by both sides. Until now 
my family had not suffered. 

That night, as we moved into the 
hills, I had no way of knowing that 
my predicament would soon be world 
news. I decided to make the best of 
the situation. Whenever the patrol 
passed villagers on the mountain 
paths, I greeted the people in their 
own language, which pleased both 
the villagers and the soldiers. I 
didn't resist my captors or make any 
attempt to escape. Instead, I repeated 
to myself the 23rd Psalm. Here, in- 
deed, was "the valley of the shadow." 

The patrol, fearing ambush, moved 
cautiously. Unaccustomed to walking 
over rugged ground in the dark, I 
stumbled and often fell. 

Finally we arrived at a larger 
gathering of soldiers, many of whom 
were asleep. The night now was far 
spent and although my hands were 
still bound behind my back, I was 
soon sleeping, too. But not for long; 
the guards shook me awake and led 
me into a candlelit enclosure to meet 
their commanding officers. The head 
officer was neatly dressed, clean 

shaven, and wore a trimmed mus- 
tache. He greeted me with: 

"Who are you?" 

"An American missionary." 

"It's too bad you don't wear robes 
like the White Fathers. [Catholic 
missionaries in Algeria wear white 
robes, hence the name.] Then you 
would not have been stopped." 

I explained that as Protestant 
missionaries we sought to share life 
totally with our people and therefore 
did not wear robes. 

Then he said, "It is a good thing 
you aren't the son of a colon ( French 
settler], for then you would already 
be dead." 

He untied my hands and invited 
me to sit with the men on a woven 
mat. We talked about many things. 
I answered all questions frankly and 
avoided none. They seemed to enjoy 
my frankness, as I enjoyed theirs, for 
almost no one in Algeria expresses 
his deeper thoughts in public. 

We talked about the Four Free- 
doms and justice. One young man 
seemed finally to agree with me when 
I said, "There is only one who is 
really fully just and he is God." 

We talked of world personalities, 
democracy, Communism, the Arab 
nations, racial tensions. The men 
seemed keenly interested in what I 

\t. I criticized them and their 
nent; they criticized me and 
the U.S. It was a real encounter. 

The head officer said he thought I 
would be released after talking with 
the region's commanding officer, a 
Colonel Ammirouche. No prisoner 
could be released without proper 
military procedure; I had to see 
Colonel Ammirouche, the most 
famous rebel in the area. His com- 
mand covers a large territory, which 
he inspects regularly — on foot. When 
would our paths cross? No one knew. 


.S I shared the daily lives of the 
soldiers, a certain affection developed 
between us. One soldier, shortly after 
1 was captured, saved me from a fall 
that could have been fatal. The patrol 
was picking its way along a dark, 
treacherous mountain path. The 
soldier behind me was holding the 
end of the rope with which my hands 
were tied behind my back. Suddenly 
I lost my footing and tumbled down 
the steep mountainside. Quickly this 
rebel gripped the rope, brought all 
his strength to bear, and gradually 
broke my fall. He probably still has 
the scars of those rope burns. 

Occasionally I was a source of 
amusement. One night, for instance, 
a scout out ahead of the patrol acci- 
dentally fired his gun. I was the first 
to hit the ground! My World War II 
training hadn't left me. 

After several long marches, I got 
into condition. I learned how to walk 
silently, how best to climb or descend 
the rugged mountainsides. I made it 
a point not to complain if I could 
help it. The men soon were address- 
ing me affectionately as "Monsieur 
Lester." Often we talked about our 
families and our work in civilian 
life. Many, I learned, were family 
men who had left responsible posi- 
tions in civilian life and I made a 
conscious effort to understand them. 
This they seemed to appreciate. 

After many nights, my captors 
brought me to an encampment where 
I was to stay. In the weeks that fol- 
lowed I became a part of camp life — 
so far as I know, the first American 
to have this experience. 

On a typical day I was up as soon 
as I heard the first plane, always a 
dreaded sound. I went to a fixed spot 
in the woods where I prayed often 
each day. Then I washed, had coffee 

and unleavened bread. Around 9 a.m. 
I visited the wounded men and sang 
hymns and American ballads as they 
gathered around me. They liked 
hymns in their own language best. 

I was given freedom to talk to any- 
one, to go anywhere in the area, and 
I often walked alone in the woods. 
I noticed a constant going and com- 
ing of men, supplies, and arms. On 
occasion, I met young men whom I 
had known through mission work. 

At noon we ate a warm meal of a 
starchy food with vegetables, peppers, 
figs, olive oil, and meat. We sat in a 
circle, eating out of a common plate. 

Afternoons varied. Sometimes I 
read, washed my clothes, bathed, or 
sat talking with the soldiers. Toward 
evening, a group of us which usually 
included a doctor, a teacher, and a 
lawyer, went to a rocky point where 
we talked. We discussed faiths, fam- 
ilies, customs, laws, philosophy, gov- 
ernment, political personalities, the 
Bible and the Koran, Mohammed 
and Jesus. It was apparent that these 
men were well educated and I was 
thankful for the background given 
me by the church and the Board of 

All of us slept in a common bed on 
the ground, clothes on, between a 
rug and a large blanket. We shared 
our bed with a host of bedbugs and 
lice, but I usually slept well — except 
when an artillery or mortar shell 
whistled overhead. 

As I shared life with my captors, 
I was impressed with their courage, 
discipline, and dedication. Whatever 
one might think about their Tight- 
ness or wrongness, or the methods 
used in their struggle, no one can 
say that they lack courage. We read 
in our Bibles that "men ought always 
to pray" and "pray without ceasing." 
I was struck by the many soldiers 
who said their Moslem prayers — and 
I felt closer to those who prayed. 

I will always remember two youths 
who had started their afternoon 
prayer in a small clearing. Suddenly 
French planes appeared. With grave 
expressions, these young rebels con- 
tinued praying. Overhead, death 
circled. But to them, prayer came 

Many soldiers respected me as "a 
man of God." At one point, when 
death seemed near, an officer asked, 
"Pastor, pray for us." And I did, will- 

Those uncertain days were the 
finest period of Christian witnessing 
I ever experienced. I gave some of 
the officers a French translation of 
the Gospel of John, and I recall one 
who calmly read his copy as he lay 
under a huge rock taking refuge 
from heavy fire. 

One night I had to walk 15 hours 
with a patrol, but the thought that 
each step was with the Lord and pos- 
sibly took me closer to my family 
was a mooring for my spirit and 
mind. We were walking over rugged 
ground and several men didn't make 
it. I stayed up with the best, but once 
I almost gave up. It was daylight; 
aching all over, I slumped to the 

"Come on, Monsieur Lester, get 
up," someone called. "Take courage!" 

"I don't care if 50 jets come over," 
I replied in exhaustion. "I can't get 
up. I'm not moving!" Yet by some 
miracle of power from beyond my- 
self, I was soon on my feet and 
stumbling along again. 

The next day I met Ammirouche. 
After several talks with him, I was 
ready to start out to freedom. As I 
left, I embraced the men, and they 
me. Not that we agreed in every- 
thing, but we had learned to respect 
each other. Then, on the evening of 
September 27 — my birthday and the 
40th day of my captivity — a rebel 
officer took me to a Catholic White 
Fathers' mission at the edge of a 
village. There I was released. 

I spent the next day with the White 
Fathers. They proved most helpful 
and gracious. They were happy, as 
they said, that "for once the knock 
on our door was to share happiness 
and not problems or grief." 


HE next day, Sunday, I was es- 
corted by the American consul to 
Algiers, where the North Africa 
Methodist Provisional Annual Con- 
ference was in closing session. My 
wife, Janice, was summoned by the 
consul, and he told her, "I have the 
best birthday present you ever saw!" 
I stepped from his car and walked 
toward my wife. We broke into un- 
ashamed tears as others rushed from 
the building to share our reunion. 
My 40 days and nights a captive of 
the Algerian rebels— days and nights 
I shall never forget — were over. I 
was home. 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

A message to thoughtful laymen 

What will happen 
to your minister 
after retirement? 

When a minister reaches 

retirement age, another minister 

is brought in as a replacement. 

Which means that the first minister has to leave 
the parsonage. And must face the prospect of 
finding a new home and living on whatever sav- 
ings or funds have been provided. 

This is a critical period for your minister. 
Even a modest home may cost more than can be 
afforded, and there are all of the day-to-day ex- 
penses which must be taken care of. Denomina- 
tional retirement pensions are often inadequate. 

In a survey, 27% of ministers felt they 
would not have enough retirement income. And 
85% say that if inflation and the cost of living 
continue to rise (which it almost certainly 
will) , their income will not be adequate, 

Ideally, at this time of life, your 


SINCE 1900 

minister should be able to do the things that 
there has never been time to do before — to travel, 
to enjoy life. 

Church members today are addressing 
themselves to this problem. They are rinding that 
it can be a great help to set aside special funds 
for minister retirements. One way of doing this 
is through a tax-sheltered annuity, a supplement 
to your denominational pension plan. An inquiry 
to Ministers Life will bring the details. 

A programmed retirement can mean peace 
of mind to your minister and to concerned 


Reprints of this public service message 

for distribution to your local church 

officials are available on request. 


and casualty union 

Ministers Life Building • Minneapolis, Minnesota 


Prepared by 

Stevenson & Associates Inc. 

1910 Midwest Plaza Bldg., Minneapolis, Minn. 55402 

Laymen Pubs./1973/l page/7305 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 37 

Painting by Charles Hargens. Copyright 1958 by Lovick Pierce, Publisher — August, 1968 


to the 
New World 


ith hundreds of original full-color paintings, Together has 
depicted the history of Methodism with particular emphasis on the 
struggling growth of the early church in the American colonies. 
In the scene above, painted especially for Together by Charles Hargens, 
Bishop Francis Asbury has just arrived in a Pennsylvania village 
on his way to Virginia and Tennessee. Asbury, who came to America in 
1771, traveled 6,000 miles a year, mostly on horseback, for 44 years. 
He preached wherever he could, amid hardships and dangers, pressing 
on through the wilderness with incredible courage and single-minded zeal. 
He returned to "civilization" occasionally and would preach at 
Old St. George's in Philadelphia (right). The church dates to 1769, is 
the oldest Methodist church in continuous service, and was known to 
Asbury as the "Cathedral of Methodism." Floyd A. Johnson's painting — one 
of many scores he contributed as art editor of the magazine — is a 
wintry scene at the church, circa 1800. Today, Old St. George's 
is listed as one of United Methodism's 16 official shrines. 

38 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Painting by Floyd A. Johnson. Copyrig 
by Lovick Pierce, Publisher — Jun 

"Is thy heart right, as my heart is with 
thine? . . . Dost thou love and serve God? 
It is enough, I give thee the right hand of 

Together 's first issue carried these words of 
John Wesley on its contents page, and they 
appeared on subsequent contents pages of the 
magazine for many years afterward. 

They are the essence of the sermon that 
appears in abridged form on this and follow- 
ing pages. Methodism's founder preached it in 
1749, first at Newcastle and then at Bristol, 

When Together printed an abridged ver- 
sion in October, 1963, Christian-history pro- 
fessor Frederick A. Norwood of Garrett Theo- 
logical Seminary said: "This is Wesley's most 
famous sermon, most abused text, most mis- 
understood message, and most useful contribu- 
tion to Christian unity in our own time. In the 
scriptural 'Is thine heart right, as my heart is 
with thine?' he finds an admirable motto for 

development of the catholic [ecumenical] 
spirit — for a Christian heart needs to be right 
as well as warm. Methodists, rooted in the 
Wesleyan tradition, bring to ecumenical dis- 
cussions today not only a warm heart and an 
open hand of fellowship but also a well- 
founded understanding of the meaning of the 
Christian faith." 

What Dr. Norwood said then is still true 
today. The union of the Methodist and Evan- 
gelical United Brethren churches that took 
place in 1968 and United Methodism's con- 
tinued participation in the Consultation on 
Church Union are two examples. 

But this compelling sermon has meaning, 
also, for those of us who do not take part in 
exalted deliberations. It is a reminder that all 
Christians are not exactly like us, and need 
not be. John Wesley knew this very well, and 
he says it here with the warmth and directness 
that made him one of the great preachers of all 
time. — Your Editors 

John Wesley's Most Famous Sermon 


From October, 1963 

And when he was departed thence, he lighted 
on Jehonadab the son of Rechab coming to meet 
him: and he saluted him, and said to him, Is thine 
heart right, as my heart is with thine? And Je- 
honadab answered, It is. If it be, give me thine 
hand. — 2 Kings X. 15. (KJV) 

KNOW it is commonly supposed that the place 
of our birth fixes the Church to which we 
ought to belong; that one who is born in England, 
ought to be a member of that which is styled the 
Church of England; and consequently, to worship 
God in the particular manner which is prescribed by 
that Church. 

I was once a zealous maintainer of this; but I find 
many reasons to abate of this zeal. I fear it is attended 
with such difficulties as no reasonable man can get 
over. Not the least of which is, that if this rule had 
took place, there could have been no Reformation 
from Popery; seeing it entirely destroys the right of 
private judgment, on which that whole Reformation 

I dare not, therefore, presume to impose my mode 

of worship on any other. My belief is no rule for 
another. I ask not, therefore, of him with whom I 
would unite in love, Are you of my church, of my 
congregation? Do you receive the same form of church 
government, and allow the same church officers, with 
me? Do you join in the same form of prayer wherein 
I worship God? I inquire not, Do you receive the sup- 
per of the Lord in the same posture and manner that 
I do? nor whether, in the administration of baptism, 
you agree with me in admitting sureties for the bap- 
tized; in the manner of administering it; or the age of 
those to whom it should be administered. Nay, I ask 
not of you (as clear as I am in my own mind), 
whether you allow baptism and the Lord's supper at 
all. Let all these things stand by; my only question is 
this,'/* thine heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?' 

Rut what is properly implied in the question? I do 
not mean, What did Jehu imply therein? Rut, What 
should a follower of Christ understand thereby, when 
he proposes it to any of his brethren? 

The first thing implied is this: Is thy heart right 
with God? Dost thou believe His being, and His per- 
fections? His eternity, immensity, wisdom, power? His 
justice, mercy, and truth? Dost thou believe that He 
now upholdeth all things by the word of His Power'? 


November-De< ember 1973 TOGETHER 

and that He governs even the most minute, even the 
most noxious, to His own glory, and the good of them 
that love Him? Hast thou a divine evidence, a super- 
natural conviction, of the things of God? Dost thou 
'walk by faith not by sight'? looking not at temporal 
things, but things eternal? 

Dost thou believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, 'God 
over all, blessed for ever'? Is He revealed in thy soul? 
Dost thou know Jesus Christ and Him crucified? Does 
He dwell in thee, and thou in Him? Is He formed in 
thy heart by faith? 


^ S THY faith filled with the energy of love? Dost 
thou love God 'with all thy heart, and with all 
thy mind, and thy soul, and with all thy strength'? 
Dost thou seek all thy happiness in Him alone? And 
dost thou find what thou seekest? Does thy soul con- 
tinually 'magnify the Lord, and thy spirit rejoice in 
God thy Saviour'? Having learned 'in everything to 
give thanks,' dost thou find 'it is a joyful and a pleasant 
thing to be thankful'? Is God the centre of thy soul, the 
sum of all thy desires? Art thou accordingly laying up 
thy treasure in heaven, and counting all things else 
dung and dross? 

Art thou employed in doing, 'not thy own will, but 
the will of Him that sent thee' — of Him that sent 
thee down to sojourn here awhile, to spend a few days 
in a strange land, till, having finished the work He 
hath given thee to do, thou return to thy Father's 

Is it thy meat and drink 'to do the will of thy 
Father which is in heaven'? Is thine eye single in all 
things? always fixed on Him? always looking unto 
Jesus? Dost thou point at Him in whatsoever thou 
doest? in all thy labour, thy business, thy conversation? 

Does the love of God constrain thee to serve Him 
with fear, to 'rejoice unto Him with reverence'? Art 
thou more afraid of displeasing God, than either of 
death or hell? Is nothing so terrible to thee as the 
thought of offending the eyes of His glory? Upon this 
ground, dost thou 'hate all evil ways,' every transgres- 
sion of His holy and perfect law; and herein 'exercise 
thyself, to have a conscience void of offence toward 
God, and toward man'? 

Is thy heart right toward thy neighbour? Dost thou 
love, as thyself, all mankind, without expression? Tf 
you love those only that love you, what thank have ye?* 
Do you 'love your enemies'? Is your soul full of good- 
will, of tender affection, toward them? Do you love 
even the enemies of God, the unthankful and unholy? 
Do your bowels yearn over them? Could you 'wish 
yourself temporally 'accursed' for their sake? And do 
you show this by 'blessing them that curse you, and 
praying for those that despitefully use you, and per- 
secute you'? 

Do you show your love by your works? While you 
have time, as you have opportunity, do you in fact 'do 
good to all men,' neighbours or strangers, friends or 
enemies, good or bad? Do you do them all the good 
you can; endeavouring to supply all their wants; as- 
sisting them both in body and soul, to the uttermost 
of your power? — If thou art thus minded, may every 

Christian say, yea, if thou art but sincerely desirous of 
it, and following on till thou attain, then 'thy heart is 
right, as my heart is with thy heart.' 

'If it he, give me thij hand.' I do not mean, 'Be of 
my opinion.' You need not: I do not expect or desire it. 
Neither do I mean, T will be of your opinion.' I can- 
not: it does not depend on my choice: I can no more 
think, than I can see or hear, as I will. Keep your 
opinion: I mine; and that as steadily as ever. You need 
not even endeavour to come over to me, or bring me 
over to you. I do not desire you to dispute those 
points, or to hear or speak one word concerning 
them. Let all opinions alone on one side and the 
other; only 'give me thine hand.' 

I do not mean, 'Embrace my modes of worship'; or, 
'I will embrace yours.' This also is a thing which does 
not depend either on your choice or mine. We must 
both act as each is fully persuaded in his own mind. 
Hold you fast that which you believe is most accept- 
able to God, and I will do the same. 

I believe the Episcopal form of church government 
to be scriptural and apostolical. If you think the Pres- 
byterian or Independent is better, think so still, and 
act accordingly. 

I believe infants ought to be baptized; and that this 
may be done either by dipping or sprinkling. If you are 
otherwise persuaded, be so still, and follow your own 

It appears to me, that forms of prayer are of ex- 
cellent use, particularly in the great congregation. 
Act suitably to your own judgment. 

My sentiment is, that I ought not to forbid water, 
wherein persons may be baptized; and that I ought to 
eat bread and drink wine, as a memorial of my dying 
Master: however, if you are not convinced of this, act 
according to the light you have. I have no desire to 
dispute with you one moment upon any of the pre- 
ceding heads. Let all these smaller points stand aside. 
Let them never come into sight. 'If thine heart is as 
my heart,' if thou lovest God and all mankind, I ask 
no more: 'give me thine hand.' 

I mean, first, love me: and that not only as thou 
lovest all mankind; not only as thou lovest thine 
enemies, or the enemies of God, those that hate thee, 
that 'despitefully use thee, and persecute thee'; not 
only as a stranger, as one of whom thou knowest 
neither good nor evil, — I am not satisfied with this, — 
no; 'if thine heart be right, as mine with thy heart,' 
then love me with a very tender affection, as a friend 
that is closer than a brother; as a brother in Christ, a 
fellow citizen of the New Jerusalem, a fellow soldier 
engaged in the same warfare, under the same Captain 
of our salvation. Love me as a companion, in the king- 
dom and patience of Jesus, and a joint heir of His 

Love me (but in a higher degree than thou dost 
the bulk of mankind ) with the love that is long-suffer- 
ing and kind; that is patient, — I am ignorant or out of 
the way, bearing and not increasing my burden; and 
is tender, soft, and compassionate still; that envieth 
not, if at any time it please God to prosper me in His 
work even more than thee. Love me with the love that 
is not provoked, either at my follies or infirmities; or 
even at my acting ( if it should sometimes so appear to 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


thee ) not according to the will of God. Love me as to 
think no evil of me; to put away all jealousy and evil- 
surmising. Love me with the love that covereth all 
things; that never reveals either my faults or infirmities 
-that believeth all things; is always willing to think 
the best, to put the fairest construction on all my words 
and actions, — that hopeth all things; either that the 
related was never done; or not done with such 
circumstances as are related; or, at least, that it was 
done with a good intention, or in a sudden stress of 
temptation. And hope to the end, that whatever is 
amiss will, by the grace of God, be corrected; and 
whatever is wanting, supplied, through the riches of 
His mercy in Christ Jesus. 

I mean, secondly, commend me to God in all thy 
prayers; wrestle with Him in my behalf, that He would 
speedily correct what He sees amiss, and supply what 
is wanting in me. In thy nearest access to the throne 
of grace, beg of Him who is then very present with 
thee, that my heart may be more as thy heart, more 
right both toward God and toward man; that I may 
have a fuller conviction of things not seen, and a 
stronger view of the love of God in Christ Jesus; may 
more steadily walk by faith, not by sight; and more 
earnestly grasp eternal life. 

MEAN, thirdly, provoke me to do good works. 
Second thy prayer, as thou hast opportunity, 
by speaking to me, in love, whatsoever thou believest 
to be for my soul's health. Quicken me in the work 
which God has given me to do, and instruct me how 
to do it more perfectly. Yea, 'smite me friendly, and 
reprove me,' whereinsoever I appear to thee to be 
doing rather my own will, than the will of Him that 
sent me. O speak and spare not, whatever thou be- 
lievest may conduce, either to the amending my faults, 
the strengthening my weakness, the building me up in 
love, or the making me more fit, in any kind, for the 
Master's use. 

I mean, lastly, love me not in word only, but in 
deed and in truth. So far as in conscience thou canst 
(retaining still thy own opinions, and thy own manner 
of worshipping God), join with me in the work of 
God; and let us go on hand in hand. And thus far, it 
is certain, thou mayest go. Speak honourably, wher- 
ever thou art, of the work of God, by whomsoever He 
works, and kindly of His messengers. And, if it be in 
thy power, not only sympathize with them when they 
are in any difficulty or distress, but give them a cheer- 
ful and effectual assistance, that they may glorify God 
on thy behalf. 

Two things should be observed in regard to what 
has been spoken under this last head: the one, that 
whatsoever love, whatsoever offices of love, whatsoever 
spiritual or temporal assistance, I claim from him 
whose heart is right, as my heart is with his, the same 
I am ready, by the grace of God, according to my 
measure, to give him; the other, that I have not made 
this claim in behalf of myself only, but of all whose 
heart is right toward God and man, that we may all 
love one another as Christ hath loved us. 

One inference we may make from what has been 

said. We may learn from hence, what is a catholic 
[universal] spirit. 

There is scarce any expression which has been more 
grossly misunderstood, and more dangerously mis- 
applied, than this; but it will be easy for any who 
calmly consider the preceding observations, to correct 
any such misapprehensions of it, and to prevent any 
such misapplication. 

For, from hence we may learn, first, that a catholic 
spirit is not speculative latitudinarianism. It is not an 
indifference to all opinions; this is the spawn of hell, 
not the offspring of heaven. This unsettledness of 
thought, this being 'driven to and fro, and tossed about 
with every wind of doctrine,' is a great curse, not a 
blessing; an irreconcilable enemy, not a friend, to true 

A man of a truly catholic spirit has not now his 
religion to seek. He is fixed as the sun in his judg- 
ment concerning the main branches of Christian 
doctrine. It is true, he is always ready to hear and 
weigh whatsoever can be offered against his princi- 
ples; but as this does not show any wavering in his 
own mind, so neither does it occasion any. He does not 
halt between two opinions, nor vainly endeavour to 
blend them into one. 

Observe this, you who know not what spirit ye are 
of: who call yourselves men of a catholic spirit, only 
because you are of a muddy understanding; because 
your mind is all in a mist; because you have no settled, 
consistent principles, but are for jumbling all opinions 
together. Go and learn the first elements of the gospel 
of Christ, and then shall you learn to be of a truly 
catholic spirit. 

From what has been said, we may learn, secondly, 
that a catholic spirit is not any land of practical lati- 
tudinarianism. It is not indifference as to public wor- 
ship, or as to the outward manner of performing it. 
The man of a truly catholic spirit, having weighed all 
things in the balance of the sanctuary, has no doubt, 
no scruple at all, concerning that particular mode of 
worship wherein he joins. Therefore, without rambling 
hither and thither, he cleaves close thereto, and praises 
God for the opportunity of so doing. 

Hence we may, thirdly, learn that a catholic spirit 
is not indifference to all congregations. This is another 
sort of latitudinarianism, no less absurd and unscrip- 
tural than the former. But it is far from a man of a 
truly catholic spirit. He is fixed in his congregation as 
well as his principles. He is united to one, not only 
in spirit, but by all the outward ties of Christian fel- 
lowship. There he partakes of all the ordinances of 
God. There he receives the supper of the Lord. There 
he pours out his soul in public prayer, and joins in pub- 
lic praise and thanksgiving. There he rejoices to hear 
the word of reconciliation, the gospel of the grace of 
God. With these his nearest, his best-loved brethren, 
on solemn occasions, he seeks God by fasting. These 
particularly he watches over in love, as they do over 
his soul; admonishing, exhorting, comforting, reprov- 
ing, and every way building up each other in faith. 
These he regards as his own household; and therefore, 
according to the ability God has given him, naturally 
cares for them, and provides that they may have all 
the things that are needful for life and godliness. 


November-December 1973 TOCtTHER 


I know that I cannot entirely keep 

Undimmed in memory, this soaring day. 

I shall forget just how the huge clouds sweep 

Through the enormous blue; I'll lose the 'way 

Their rushing shadows on rich autumn hills 

Make ever-changing tapestries of light 

And shade — I cannot keep this day that spills 

Its thousand glories on my dazzled sight. 
Yet though I cannot memorize the hues 
And shapes of every cloud and field and wood, 
I think in darkest times I shall refuse 
Despair, in confidence that life is good, 
Long after I have quite forgotten how 
Vivid the leaves are on each shining bough. 

— Jane Merchant 


Ray S. Wycoff-May, 1%6 , ,. ■ ffiSt' 


A mother, experienced in the trials of living 

with almost grown-up children, advises other parents: 

J ush the Fledglings Out! 

From August, 1960 

A Together in the Jj ^^^ Feature 


'O PARENTS ever get through 
raising a family? I wonder. In our 
case, when our two older boys 
finished high school, they decided to 
go to work. One got a job as an 
apprentice sheet-metal worker, with 
pay enough to make him independ- 
ent. The other became a civil-service 
draftsman with a good salary. 

Now, their father and I told our- 
selves, our troubles with these two 
are over! But we were kidding our- 

At first it looked rosy. "Now, 
Mom," the boys told me, "we want 
to help out with the food bill." That 
was fine, their dad and I agreed; 
they certainly ate enough. Between 
17 and 20 a boy is still a gastronomic 

The boys began throwing in $10 a 
week toward groceries. But they also 
kept tossing their dirty clothes into 
the family washing, showing not a 
bit of surprise at getting them back 
clean and ironed. And they kept on 
using the family stock of soap, tooth- 
paste, and other incidentals, just as 
they always had. 

If asked to help with household 
chores, however, they were anything 
but cheerful. They never helped 
without being asked, and if a date 
or other plans interfered, off they 
went, leaving me with the younger 
children, the lawn to be cut, and their 
room and the bathroom a mess. 

They were good boys and neither 
drank, for which their father and I 
were thankful. They had nice friends, 
who came in all hours of the day 

and night, lugging sandwiches and 
homemade malts from the kitchen 
to the boys' room. We were glad they 
had friends and felt free to bring 
them home. But when I looked at 
the extra dishes overflowing the sink 
— and the gaps where food had 
vanished from the refrigerator — I 
wondered desperately where their 
parents' freedom came in. 

Our sons also became night owls. 
Finally, when the older one came 
whistling home at 3 a.m. I told him: 
"You know we don't keep hours like 
this. Please, can't you get in a little 
earlier so everyone can settle down 
for a decent night's sleep?" 

Well, our son felt that since he was 
paying his "board and room" he 
should have all the privileges and 
none of the responsibilities connected 
with the household. He announced 
he'd better find a place of his own. 

I suggested that he look for one 
where laundry, mending, and 24- 
hour access to the refrigerator would 
be thrown in, as well as unlimited 
use of all personal supplies. I also told 
him to seek a place where he would 
have free use of the phone. 

I clipped ads for him and he began 
his search. For a week he ran down 
leads. Then suddenly he quit. He 
pitched in and helped with the work 
as he never had. He asked me to 
show him how to iron his clothes. 
He began getting in earlier, and 
when he knew he would be out late 
he got in the habit of telling us be- 

That little spell of knowing he was 

free to go, and that his parents might 
even be relieved if he did strike out 
on his own, plus a week of trying 
to find a place he wanted — and could 
afford, did wonders. 

Almost the same thing happened 
with our second son. Both boys found 
that freedom costs money, and that 
a wage-earning child still has definite 
obligations to his home and family 
so long as he lives at home and bene- 
fits from the family situation. The 
boys are both married now, but when 
they come home on visits they help 
in a way that shows real appreciation. 

After them came Jane, who at 19 
decided she should be completely 

Her father and I had looked for- 
ward to having her home after a 
year at the university, for she is 
bright and her thinking is a constant 
challenge. But along with her came 

Tommy was in love with Jane, but 
he lived about 80 miles away and 
had no car. The first Friday night, 
he hitchhiked to our place and spent 
that night, all Saturday, Saturday 
night, and Sunday as our guest. And 
I mean guest. He didn't so much as 
offer to dry a dish, and Jane wasn't 
even worth shooting while he was 
hanging around. 

Saturday night we lent them our 
car. They came back at 2 a.m. and 
began frying hamburgers. 

"Are all our summer weekends 
going to be like this?" my husband 
groaned as we lay tensely awake in 
the hamburger-scented darkness. 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

"I'm not sure," I answered, "but 
I'd guess yes." 

"Over my dead body," he mut- 

The next morning, Jane announced 
that she and Tommy wouldn't go 
to church. "He doesn't believe in 
organized religion," she explained 
soulfully. To maintain an aura of 
respectability, I stayed home, too, 
and my attitude was anything but 

In gentle ways we tried to get the 
idea across to our daughter that a 
little moderation would be all to the 
good. But after the second weekend 
we felt compelled to take direct ac- 
tion. Jane was told she would have 
to do certain things around the house 
because I needed her help. Also, we 
assured her, there would be no more 
home-cooked meals at 2 a.m., no 
more showers at 3. And no more 
weekend living at our house by her 
boy friend unless her father and I 
specifically invited him. 

George P. Miller 

We admitted we might be stuffy 
and old-fashioned, but we didn't feel 
able to cope with broken sleep and 
upsets every weekend. 

Jane said angrily that she felt she 
was old enough to decide for herself 
how much and how often she could 
see her boy friend. She should be old 
enough, she protested, to decide when 
she should get in. And when, she 
wanted to know, would she be her 
own boss? Her father told her that 
when she was ready and able to pay 
her own bills she could make all her 
decisions herself. 

A few days later a quieter Jane 
came home from a trip to the city. 

"I've had a happy home," she be- 
gan, "and I want my memories of it 
to remain happy. But they won't be 
if I'm going to be treated like a child 

I'm glad I didn't give in to my 
impulse to tell her that every teen- 
ager thinks he's being treated like a 
child if his wishes are crossed, for 

To older children with jobs, 
moving out of the family home 
seems best — until they find 
that freedom costs them money. 

she went on: "But I've been thinking 
that as long as my parents pay all 
my bills and send me $100 a month 
to go to college, then I am still a 
child." Our daughter not only has 
a bright mind, it's a fair one when 
she puts it to work on a problem. 

"I don't want to be a child any 
longer," Jane concluded, "so I've 
found a job in town. I'm going to 
quit college and support myself." 

The apartment she and a girl 
friend took in the city wasn't much, 
but it was respectable. We helped the 
girls move in, hoping deep inside 
ourselves that this wasn't the wrong 

As Jane packed dishes, I reminded 
her to put in an extra setting as 
Tommy might be there to eat with 
them sometimes. "Oh no, he won't," 
she answered. "Tommy is going to 
eat somewhere else unless he brings 
his own food." 

"You didn't feel that way about 
cooking big meals for him here," I 

"That was different. I wasn't buy- 
ing the meat then!" 

Her favher heard her and came up 
from behind his newspaper: "We've 
been taken, Mother, we've been 
taken!" And parents are likely to 
go on being taken by their almost 
grown-up children unless they have 
the backbone to stand up to them. 
When the young fledgling yells for 
a chance to try his wings, don't have 
hysterics about "my-beloved-child- 
turning-against-me" and all that 
stuff. Just step up to the edge, give 
the fledgling a little push, then stand 
aside and watch the fun. But keep 
the underbrush around the nest 
cleared away so the way back is plain. 

Jane comes home occasionally and 
she phones us almost every day. 
Sometimes she invites us to be her 
guests, for she did pack enough 
dishes for her family — even if we 
don't bring our own groceries. 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 45 



A distinguished Methodist scholar reinterprets 

a biblical figure with information from the Dead Sea Scrolls: 

From June, 1959 

John the Baptist— Today 

Dy W. x . J\.i-,Dt\l\Jjtl 1 Professor Emeritus of Semitic Languages, Johns Hopkins University 


T THE CROSSROADS of history, when Chris- 
tianity was about to emerge from the womb of Judaism, 
stands a towering figure: Yohanan, son of the priest 
Zechariah, whom we know as John the Baptist. Just 
before the beginning of the public ministry of Jesus, he 
was to make a tremendous impact on the conscience of 
his time. 

Until the Qumran Scrolls were discovered in caves 
near the Dead Sea, many biblical students rejected much 
of the Gospel tradition about John. But the Scrolls con- 
firm the Gospel story to an extent no cautious scholar 
would have dared predict. 

We now see John clearly against the background of a 
religious sect known as the Essenes. Nowhere in the 
Scrolls is it said that he was a member, but it is hard to 
understand his ideas and his practices unless we suppose 
he was strongly influenced by the Essenes. 

The Essene movement, begun more than a century 
before John was born, was a protest against the growing 
corruption among the Jewish ruling classes. In 167 B.C. 
the pious founder of the Maccabean House, rebelling 
against efforts of the Macedonian king of Syria to stamp 
out the Jewish faith, had established an independent 
state governed by high priests of his own family. Be- 
fore long these patriotic priests became monarchs 
and the Temple service in Jerusalem became riddled 
with graft and racketeering. 

Pious men were shocked and some of them organized 
a new fellowship, the Essenes, which was to rank third 
in importance among Jewish sects just after the Pharisees 

The picture on the left shows John the Baptist 
as photographer Sune Richards things he may have 
looked. Her picture series on women of the 
Bible and the disciples have been among 
Together'/ most popular features. 
William Foxwell Albright, author of this 
article, was best known to the public as the 
biblical scholar who authenticated the Dead Sea 
Scrolls. A world-famous archaeologist and biblical 
authority, he knew some 25 languages and 
could reconstruct an ancient civilization by 
examining its artifacts and deciphering its 
language. A professor at fohns Hopkjns University 
for many years, he died in 1971. 

and Sadducees. What they may have called themselves 
we do not know; but we do know a great deal about 
their teachings and practices, thanks to the Qumran 
Scrolls and to the description of Essene tenets left by 
Josephus, the great Jewish historian. 

The Essenes tried to keep themselves pure and their 
faith unsullied by isolation from others. Small groups 
were scattered through Palestine, and some apparently 
settled in Egypt. But their chief center, mentioned by the 
Roman writer Pliny (who died in the eruption of Ve- 
suvius in a.d. 79), was at Qumran itself. 

Here in the wilderness of Judea they labored in fields 
watered by the copious flow of a neighboring spring. 
Marriage was discouraged, if not entirely prohibited, 
and members of the community shared their property. 
As they studied the Scriptures, they looked forward to 
the coming of the Anointed Prince and the Anointed 

Priests were held in great honor by these sectarians, 
especially when they belonged to the House of Zadok, 
which traced its lineage back to the high priest of the 
original Temple of Solomon. We are told (Luke 1:80) 
that the priest's son, John, spent his youth in the 
wilderness. He could scarcely have avoided the pious 
worshipers at Qumran, who were apparently being re- 
organized after the abandonment of their community 
settlement during the reigns of the Jewish kings, Herod 
the Great and his son Archelaus, who had turned 
nearby Jericho into a fashionable winter resort with 
luxurious buildings and amenities. Herod favored the 
Essenes at first, but it is quite impossible to imagine the 
initially good relationship as lasting for long, especially 
after the terrible earthquake of 31 b.c. 

Essenes were not prophets in the old Israelite sense, 
nor were they evangelists in any Christian sense. Their 
stress was on knowledge, especially knowledge of esoteric 
mysteries of salvation. While they welcomed disciples, 
they apparently made no attempt to preach to the 
masses. Only the specially chosen few, they thought, 
could be holy enough to merit a favored place in the 
future kingdom of God. To John, who emerged from 
the wilderness to herald the word of God to the crowds, 
this lack of social conscience must have been quite 

He had been wandering in the desert, clad in a tunic 
of coarse camel's hair like the Arabs, living on a diet of 
locusts and wild honey, easy for him to procure and 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 47 

rich in vitamins and energy. We may imagine him as 
constantly repeating and rethinking the words of the 
Prophets, which he doubtless knew by heart like any 
other bright son of a Jewish priestly family, until he 
could contain himself no longer. He had no illusions 
about himself; he was not the Anointed One (Messiah), 
he was not Elijah come to life again, he was not a great 
prophet himself, but only John, sent by God to be a 
forerunner of the Kingdom. 

From the Essenes he had learned a practice known 
only under certain conditions among other Jewish 
groups: the ceremony of purification by water as a sign 
of inner purity. But while the Essenes purified them- 
selves with running water on many occasions, John 
appears to have insisted only on a single ritual act of 
sacramental quality: "He went . . . preaching a baptism 
of repentance for the forgiveness of sins." (Luke 3:3.) 
The convert was to emerge from the running water of 
Jordan free from sin, ready to witness to the salvation 
wrought by God. 

John refused to accept any merit under God in be- 
longing to a "superior" race or religion. Like Jesus he 
showed special tolerance toward the hated tax collectors 
and police, without whom organized society was im- 

Seeing clearly the rapid approach of divine judgment 
on human wickedness, he did not spare his people as 
he announced the coming of a Mighty One who would 
baptize with "the fire of the Holy Spirit." The Coming 

One will "clear his threshing floor, and . . . gather the 
wheat into his granary, but the chaff he will burn with 
unquenchable fire." (Luke 3:17.) Within little over a 
century, the Jews of Palestine and neighboring lands 
were to be utterly crushed in several bloody revolts, last- 
ing many years; Jerusalem would not again be inhabited 
by Jews until many centuries had passed. 

We shall never know the exact relation between John 
the Baptist and Jesus. It was John who is said to have 
first recognized that the humble man of Nazareth was 
the Anointed One, and the first disciples of Jesus, 
Andrew and probably John the Evangelist, came to him 
from John the Baptist. 

It is now certain that the teachings of Jesus, as re- 
ported particularly by the Gospel of John, were strongly 
influenced in details by the Essenes. It is equally clear 
that John the Baptist was a true forerunner of Christ 
at the very points where the former broke with the 

Later while John was in prison, he seems to have 
been much disturbed by the tales he was hearing of the 
evangelistic activities of Jesus. Being a very human 
prophet, he could not grasp the full meaning of the 
tremendous movement which he had helped so notably 
in starting, a movement which was to light a devouring 
fire throughout the earth and to shock mankind from 
its millennial lethargy. As a true prophet he bowed to 
the will of God and met his own execution as coura- 
geously as he had denounced wickedness in high places. 

From April, 1962 

The Many Shapes of Crosses 

There are many shapes of crosses 
Other than the timbered "T"; 
I have seen men stitched on barbed wire 
Like a scarecrow effigy. 

M en have wept upon long tables, 
Heads on hands, with elbows spread, 
Crucified by man's injustice, 
Not quite living — not quite dead. 

Others stand on high horizons, 
Arms flung out in wide embrace, 
Loving their fellowmen while knowing 
Some will drive the spikes in place. 

Wooden crosses kill more quickly 
The body that is there impaled, 
While others walk as human crosses 
On which the heart alone is nailed. 

Let the Crucifixion answer 
Even now as it did then; 
May we learn the shape of justice, 
And not make crosses out of men. 

Ralph W. Seagkr 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 



For Goodness' Sake ! 

Humor, warmth, and candor fill this 
delightful book. In a firsthand look 
behind the parsonage door, Edith 
Patterson Meyer describes what it 
was like to be the youngest child 
in a New England minister's 
large family at the turn of the 
century. $4.95 

It's Your Day 

Wil Shorb, musician and member of 
a singing trio, shares his thoughts 
and experiences as a Spirit-filled 
Christian. He shows the reader how 
to successfully confront and 
overcome the 4-F's in life — 
failures, fatigue, feelings and 
so-called freedoms. $2.95 

Tell Me Again, I'm Listening 

Do you have trouble communicating 
with your spouse? In this frank 
appraisal of what it means to have 
a real dialogue with your marriage 
partner, you will find helpful and 
practical advice. Richard Wilke 
and wife Julia speak from 
experience in this easy-to-read 
book. $3.95 

The Joyful Wedding 

Make your wedding a very personal 
expression of your love. Here are 
innovative ideas and sixteen 
original songs for that very 
special wedding— yours ! Everything 
from clothes and decorations to 
vows, music, Scripture, and the 
surrounding mood. Nick Hodsdon. 
Paper, $3.50 

Plum Jelly and Stained 
Glass & Other Prayers 

Color of joy in a glass of jelly, 
green seeds on an elm tree, 
mosquitoes, motorcycles, lonely 
people ... Jo Carr and Imogene 
Sorley pray about various and 
sundry things in their own in- 
imitable, honest, and down-to-earth 
manner. $2.75 

Reflections of a 
Fishing Parson 

A cane pole, a riverbank, and 
something more — time to think and 
enjoy solitude. Jonathan Sams 
shares fish tales and his own 
personal philosophy in an appealing 
narrative. Nostalgic reading for 
fishing buffs of all ages. Illus. $2.95 

Armed with Love: 
Stories of the Disciples 

Gerald N. Battle. In twelve new 
and exciting stories, the disciples 
step from the pages of history. 
Armed with love and their new 
message, eleven of them became 
towers of strength as they shared 
the Good News. Ages 12-up. $4.95 

Bible Stories : 

God at Work with Man 

Mary Alice Jones; illustrated by 
Tom Armstrong. A beloved 
children's author shows how God has 
always chosen people to be his 
partners in his work for good 
everywhere. Accounts of Abraham, 
Moses, Amos, Dorcas, and many 
others. Ages 6-9. $3.95 

Indians of the Southeast: 
Then and Now 

Beautiful drawings, photographs, 
famous Indian art, and fascinating 
text relate the story of the South- 
eastern tribes — their history, 
life-styles, legends, triumphs, and 
defeats. Jesse Burt and Robert B. 
Ferguson. All ages. $7.95 

The Aminal 

Written and illustrated by Lorna 
Balian. Patrick finds a strange 
aminal and puts it in his lunch 
sack. As his friends learn about 
the aminal, it grows fiercer, uglier, 
and hungrier. Gossip is presented 
in a humorous and appealing 
manner. Ages 4-7. $3.95 

Follow the Butterfly Stream 

Written and illustrated with full- 
color photographs by Lorenz Boyd. 
The vast beauty of the Smokies is 
captured in this refreshing trek 
along mountain trails, by sparkling 
streams, to the meadow of the 
butterflies. An appealing book 
for all ages. $3.50 

The Trees of Christmas 

An unusual combination of 
creativity and beauty — 23 breath- 
taking photographs of decorated 
trees in full color, plus complete 
instructions for making the 
decorations. Over 200 black-and- 
white illustrations. A treasured gift. 
Boxed for your convenience. $8.95 

Young Readers 
Book of Bible Stories 

Helen Doss; illus. by Tom 
Armstrong. 137 stories as real as 
today's headlines make Bible 
characters and their surroundings 
come to life. Scene-setting 
introductions to each testament 
and section, maps, pronunciation 
guide, index. Ages 8-12. $7.95 

Young Readers Bible* 

A proven classic based on the 
Revised Standard Version Bible. 
Features over 600 2-color illustra- 
tions, bold-face subject headings 
outlining the text, full-color 
reference maps, a chronological 
chart, and durable binding. Enjoy- 
able for all ages. $8.95 

The Interpreter's Dictionary 
of the Bible 

An authoritative Bible reference 
by 253 skilled writers. Defines 
and explains every person, town, 
region, hill, stream, plant, animal, 
mineral, object, and major biblical 
doctrine in the Bible. Maps, illus- 
trations. Four-volume set, $45 

The Interpreter's One-Volume 
Commentary on the Bible 

Including the Apocrypha, with 
General Articles. An all-new 
commentary based on latest 
archaeological and technological 
information. Seventy contributors, 
full-color maps, indexes, photos. 
Based on RSV. Reg. edition, $17.50; 
thumb-indexed, $19.50 

ot your cokesbury bookstore 


the book publishing deportment of 
the united methodist publishing house 

♦Published by A. J. Holman Co. 
Distributed exclusively by Abingdon. 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


On the Frontier, the Circuit Ridci| 
Preached, Saved Souls— and Sold Bool 

When The Methodist Church 

observed its 1 75th anniversary 

in 1959, our cover featured 

this romantic painting of Bishop From May, 1964 

Francis Asbury, with his 

saddlebags loaded with books. 

„ f'- : i» 


Ff* M 


x «t< 

6 % 


Painting by Robert Addison. Copyright © 1964 by The Methodist Publishing House. 


'OWN THE Wilderness Road, 
through Cumberland Gap, up from 
Kentucky, and across the Ohio into 
the plains and parklike forests of 
the Middle West, the circuit riders 
of Methodism kept pace with the 
lean, free-striding pioneers. With a 
printing press behind them now, 
they were more than itinerant 
preachers; they were salesmen for 

the Book Concern. Their wares in- 
cluded such items as Wesley's Notes 
on the New Testament, the Armini- 
an Magazine, pocket hymnals, Bi- 
bles, and the Discipline. Hard-rid- 
ing men, they set the pattern for 
other traveling book salesmen, and 
share credit for the spread of knowl- 
edge to the expanding frontier. 
Robert Addison's superb painting 

of a circuit rider's welcome at a 
pioneer homestead could hardly be 
more realistic had he set up his can- 
vas in that green clearing; and this 
scene must have been duplicated 
thousands of times across the track- 
less wilderness— wherever and 
whenever inspired men on horse- 
back, who carried saddlebags of 
books, stopped to pray and preach. 

November-December 1973 TOGfU 


Together: 1963-69 

The Middle Years 

By George P. Miller, Picture Editor, Together 

IT WAS one of those dark Novem- 
ber days that signal the start of a 
long Chicago winter. At the 
Together/Christian Advocate offices 
in suburban Park Ridge, editorial staff 
members had been called to the con- 
ference room to hear a report on the 
just-ended 1963 annual meeting of 
the Methodist Board of Publication. 

The big news: Ewing T. Wayland, 
editor of Christian Advocate, had 
been named editorial director of both 
publications, succeeding Leland D. 
Case. Together had passed from the 
hands of its founder who had en- 
visioned this "bold new venture in 
religious journalism." Mr. Case re- 
mained as consultant for the maga- 

Few on the staff knew of a second 
meeting that took place 24 hours 
later in the sanctuary of First Meth- 
odist Church in nearby Arlington 
Heights. The new editorial director 
was in the front pew with two other 
men — the Rev. James M. Wall, man- 

aging editor of Christian Advocate, 
and Richard C. Underwood, execu- 
tive editor of Together. The Rev. 
Hughes B. Morris, First Church pastor, 
read the Methodist order of Holy 
Communion, and those assembled 
received the Sacrament following a 
prayer for the future leadership of 
the magazines. 

The symbolism was clear. Dr. Way- 
land — former pastor, former navy 
chaplain, former editor of Method- 
ism's regional newspapers in Arkan- 
sas and Louisiana — was starting his 
tenure in the new post with a cove- 
nant symbolized by the renewal of 
Holy Communion. Thus began To- 
gether's second era; and within two 
months, Dick Underwood was named 
editor of Together and Jim Wall be- 
came editor of Christian Advocate. 

If it could be said that Together's 
early years had been shaped largely 
by the forceful personality of its 
founder, the magazine's style in its 



I Dreak tnro U gh i 


second era was molded in large 
meaure by events both within and 
outside the life of the church. For 
even as the editorial changeover 
took place, the nation's young presi- 
dent was only days away from assas- 
sination; and before the end of this 
Together era, two other national fig- 
ures would die in like manner. 

Only months after assuming their 
new responsibilities, the three execu- 
tives — Wayland, Underwood, and 
Wall — went to Pittsburgh to learn 
how the 1964 General Conference 
would speak to Methodism in the 
next four years. The 1964 meeting 
was a conference in transition. It 
proclaimed church business as usual 
though the nation had entered an 
era of social change and upheaval. 
Union of Methodism with the Evan- 
gelical United Brethren Church was 
given a timetable, but the question 
of segregation in Methodism's black 
Central Jurisdiction remained un- 
resolved. Outside Pittsburgh's huge 
Civic Arena, young Methodists for 
Church Renewal demonstrated for 
the immediate abolishment of the 
Central Jurisdiction. Peaceful, in the 


style of the early sixties, it was a 
dramatic event for a Methodist Gen- 
eral Conference; and it set the stage 
for change in General Conferences 
to come. 

The participants were black and 
white college kids, seminary students, 
pastors, laymen. Some were veterans 
of lunch-counter sit-ins, Freedom 
Rides, and the Washington Rally. 
They had come to Pittsburgh in car 
pools from as far as 750 miles away, 
arriving tired and without hotel reser- 
vations. They traded sleep for a 
nightlong rally that packed neigh- 
boring Smithfield Congregational and 
Methodist churches in downtown 
Pittsburgh. After speeches, songs, and 
prayers, they went to the plaza in 
front of the auditorium and walked 
silently with locked arms. Together's 
new editor, Dick Underwood, had 
spent most of the night watching and 
listening. The message was clear: 
Race would be the central issue in 
church and nation in the four years 
to come. 

In the summers that followed, city 
names became symbols of the rage 
that smoldered in the black ghettos 
of Chicago, Newark, Watts, Detroit. 
Students grew restive over Viet Nam, 
the draft, and environmental pollu- 
tion. Cesar Chavez took his grape- 
pickers out on strike. 

On my assignments around the na- 
tion with other Together staffers, I 
found churches and churchmen in 

tets vv ( 


i LT- po "Vcod 

new molds. It was an exciting time 
to be working in the church and on 
the staff of a church-related maga- 
zine. Even as the ashes of racial strife 
were cooling in the cities, there were 
forces of renewal at work in the 
churches. New missions structures 
were being developed to deal with 
the problems of race, poverty, and 
urban decay. A spirit of hope for 
genuine renewal was enhanced by 
the fall of barriers between Roman 
Catholics and Protestants in the wake 
of Vatican II. 

Perhaps we were naive then. May- 
be we wouldn't end segregation, 
wipe out poverty, renew the church, 
and make a nation see that a war in 
Southeast Asia was immoral. Yet 
there was the hope these things could 

In comparison to many publica- 
tions of the church and the secular 
press, Together's approach to events 
of the late sixties was more conserva- 
tive than radical. But it was not al- 
ways seen in that light by some read- 
ers. And a magazine, unlike a Gen- 
eral Conference, a board, or a bishop, 
could be dealt with in a concrete 
way — by a cancelled subscription. 
The editors tried to avoid alienation, 
but events in the life of the church 
demanded attention, and the maga- 
zine's pages reflected these issues. 

For the first time Together spoke 
with an editorial voice when the 
Viewpoint page became a monthly 
feature in 1964. Written by Editor 




'" '*»»*«& Cum,-. 

taping the CHURCH 
Know the CTH 

Underwood in most issues, editorials 
often underlined the church's respon- 
sibility to speak out on injustices. 

Just 32 when he was named To- 
gether's editor, he had come to the 
staff as a part-time associate in the 
magazine's first year. Early in the 
sixties, before the national cycling 
craze, he often bicycled to the office 
in good weather. He liked the exer- 
cise and freedom the bike provided. 
So also with his associates, he gave 
them freedom to express ideas and 
to bring them to life as articles for 
the magazine. 

As the end of the quadrennium ap- 
proached, Methodists and EUBs 
looked to Dallas as the site of their 
1968 Uniting Conference. It was gen- 
erally expected that this would be a 
housekeeping conference, primarily 
concerned with tidying up the details 
of union. That expectation failed to 
take into account the constant expo- 
sure of Americans to events of the 
time. We like to believe that To- 
gether's interpretations of the 
church's role in society played a part, 

What was predicted to be a house- 
keeping conference turned out to 
be a conference which faced issues 
and acted forthrightly to put the new 
United Methodist Church to work at 
once. The Fund for Reconciliation 
and the Commission on Religion and 
Race were two of the 1968 General 
Conference creations. Dick Under- 
wood headlined his Viewpoint: New 
Church, New Spirit: Rejoice! □ 

E *Plod es 

nou Shalt Nc 

VIEWPOINT / a page for the expression of opinii 

From April, 1966 

The RISKS of Church Renewal 


lO CHURCHMAN is really with it any more 
unless he endorses church renewal, one of this 
day's leading "Okay!" terms. And that's fine. The 
catch is, everyone writes his own definition. And 
the point sometimes missed is that authentic church 
renewal involves risk-taking. For example: 

1. Loss of members. When a church really begins 
to apply the Gospel to today, to speak on the 
conditions and attitudes that keep men in bondage, 
some members will pull out. The only way to avoid 
controversy is to say and do nothing. But that is the 
antithesis of a prophetic community of faith; in 
fact, it is a pretty good working definition of a com- 
munity of wnfaith. The choice must be made to 
judge success biblically, not numerically. 

2. Loss of financial support. Bondage to a budget, 
a building, or a certain traditional way of doing 
things is one of the common obstacles to contem- 
porary Christian witness and mission. Every church, 
of course, runs the risk that substantial contributors 
will develop a stockholder mentality and feel that 
the weight of their coin determines the weight of 
their voice in church affairs. Again, any church seek- 
ing real renewal must reject this marketplace men- 
tality and simply be the church of Jesus Christ, 
come what may. 

3. Loss of a religious superiority complex. It 
becomes clearer every day that no church, no de- 
nomination, can go it alone on the tangled problems 
of this age. Neither can churchmen bring about 
change in human affairs without the support and 
counsel, if not the leadership, of secular men and 
structures. The fact is, it never has been appropriate 
to boast about being a churchman or a particular 
kind of churchman. No group, not even the church, 
contains all the world's good guys. This is an ecu- 
menical age in an increasingly secularized society. 
More than that, some of the most significant Chris- 
tian work and witness is done in secular situations 
by churchmen who never identify themselves as 
churchmen. Among other things, this means an end 
to the practice of always trying to paste a Christian 
label on the things we need to do as Christians. 

4. Loss of a cloistered clubbiness. Any manifesto 
of renewal recognizes that the church can be the 
church only as it gets outside of itself, and assumes 
the role of servant. Of course, a church also serves 
its own members. But if those members ever view 
the church as a sort of stained-glass cocoon where 
they can hide away from the real world, the honest 
thing to do is call it a private club, not a church. 

5. Loss of an optional, selective faith. Early 
Christians, and early Methodists, too, were marked 
by their acceptance of the faith as an absolute call- 

ing, a total outlook, a complete style of fife. They 
sought not to conform to the world but to transform 
it — all of it. Contrast that with what often passes 
for Christianity today: the execution of certain 
private rituals and the retention of certain carefully 
segmented, simplistic attitudes, both distinguished 
by their absolute irrelevance to such gut issues of 
life as despair, suffering, war, human degradation, 
fear, and want. For too many, Christianity is a com- 
fortable option, a take-it-or-leave-it thing. 

In many congregations, renewal has begun from 
serious Bible study involving all members. It often 
is buttressed by strict membership requirements in- 
cluding compulsory courses of instruction for new 
members and regular, serious adult-education pro- 
grams. Out of such encounters with the Gospel can- 
not fail to come new awareness of the Christian call 
to discipleship in all life, and new sensitivity to 
mission as the Christian's calling. 

6. Loss of formulas for Christian life and mission. 
Some people still think of Christianity as a cluster 
of don'ts, the observance of which guarantees in- 
clusion among the angels. But Christianity never has 
been a crutch; instead, it is a way of living without 

Today, perhaps as never before, the religious 
crutches we have used in the past are being hacked 
out from under us. Practices and attitudes we once 
took (or still take) for granted are subject to re- 
testing and contemporary validation. Not only is it 
a new game, but the world has changed even the 
rules. So any church that really seeks renewal must 
start from scratch to see what its mission is today, 
right there on its home ground. For every com- 
munity has grave needs that are not being met. 

Deep-reaching renewal is going to require some 
radical changes in most congregations. It means 
doing away with the frills and extras that sap many 
congregations of the energy needed to deal with the 
real problems, internal and external, that cry for 
action. It means that laymen must accept primary 
responsibility for mission, and that a church is not 
really a church if laymen expect the pastor to pull it 
along single-handedly. It means an openness to the 
new that crowds in on us from all sides in this 
Space Age. 

But renewal is fundamentally a positive process, 
an affirmation that the Gospel is as demanding and 
relevant for today as it was in Christ's time. It re- 
quires stripping down to essentials and starting 
fresh. Hence those things we have mentioned as 
losses are not losses at all. For as Christ said, ". . . 
Whoever would save his life will lose it; and who- 
ever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will 
save it." 

Let these be the watchwords for today's churches. 

— Your Editors 

54 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Is He not with all who grieve, suffering with their sorrow and sharing the burden of loneliness? 

Charles Moore, Black St; 

From December, 1965 


IN THE 20 centuries since Jesus of Nazareth was born, the 
world has been turned upside down. Yet the meaning of 
his life and death and Resurrection is fresh and unchang- 
ing. He came to redeem the world— yesterday, today, to- 
morrow. And he is present today in all the affairs of men. 
He is there where joy is celebrated, where grief oppresses, 
where life is distorted— even where he is denied. 

On these pages are illustrated a few life-experiences of 
greatest intensity. The point is simply this: to truly follow 



Christ, we also must participate in the whole of life. And 
we are called to witness for him, not by condemning from 
afar, not by isolating ourselves from things alien or dis- 
tasteful, but by developing a sensitivity to the needs of 
others and by becoming involved — particularly where 
there is inhumanity, suffering, and poverty of the spirit. 
For, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, the Christian belongs 
"not in the seclusion of a cloistered life, but in the thick 
of foes. There is his commission, his work." 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 55 

WHERE IS \^ msf- TODAY? 

Is He not also among those who degrade the dignity of life, who deny the oneness of all men in Christ? 

Charles Moore, Blacil 

Man's inhumanity to man 

is a denial of Christ's presence. 

Among those dispossessed, the 

Ictims of war and greed and want, 

he is present, suffering. 



! T< 

Christ was a revolutionary; 
so, too, are many of the young 
who have not rationalized 
injustice as have some of their 
elders. Even if their methods 
and remedies are unconventional, 
we can learn much from their 
restlessness, their impatience, 
their protests. In them, as 
in us, Christ is at work. 





7* He not here as the young learn, at play, some of the lessons of life? 

. And in that moment when two lives become one? 

.And in sharing simple chores of a happy home? 




Who shares the desperation, the degradation of a man without work to support his family? 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 59 


Wherever decisions are made that influence the lives of men, Christ is 


These are children of God. 
Must they be treated as cattle, 
robbed of their dignity and freedom? 
For if any man is in bondage, 
none of us is free. 

They seek meaning in lif 

but have not found it. Chri 

is here, too— not to judgi 

but to share. If he is n 

acknowledged, the failure is n 

his, but ours. For through u 

he is made known to other 

How can we reach tho 

who despair, who deny him 

'ill his presence be acknowledged on both sides of this bargaining table? 

Angus McDougall, International Harveste 




What man has not asked himself, "What am I doing here? Where am I going?" 



/As Christians, we profess that only in Christ can we dis- 
cover the quality and the ultimate meaning of life. Only 
as we encounter him in the midst of his world are we 
freed to live life fully, openly, without fear and pretense. 
Our response to this gift of freedom is the desire to share 

it with all men, to demonstrate its reality through the 
quality of our lives. 

Our mission today is as his: "For Cod sent the Son into 
the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world 
might be saved through him" (John 3:17). □ 

62 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

From December, 1964 

Copyright © 1950 United Feature Syndicate, Inc. 

IE Theologian! 


1 HIRTY MILLION Americans 
— plus citizens of Hong Kong, 
Turkey, Sweden, Venezuela, Japan, 
and other widely separated parts of 
the world — are devoted to the daily 
doings of a group of children in a 
comic strip called Peanuts. Two 
books about them have been best- 

It is interesting to speculate on 
how many readers might be less — 
or more — ardent in their addiction 
to the little characters created by 
Charles M. Schulz if they were told 
that "good ol' Charlie Brown" and 
his friends are doing some of to- 
day's most eloquent preaching. 

The theological implications of 
their antics are no accident. Schulz 
is a dedicated Christian who be- 
lieves all Christians should go out 
and do some preaching. In his own 
time, he has preached on street 
corners with groups of other lay- 
men, but now he confines his teach- 
ing to his cartooning and to an 
adult Bible class at the Methodist 
Church in Sebastopol, Calif. He is 
a member of the Church of God, 
but says he feels equally at home 
with Methodists because diey are 

part of God's total church. He also 
draws teen-age cartoons for about 
70 different church publications, 
including Together. 

In Peanuts, Schulz's teaching is 
so subtle that, while there are 
plenty of lessons to be learned, we 
are not always sure what they are. 
Charlie Brown's friend Lucy char- 

acterizes our frequent inability to 
see these lessons, by saying, after 
practically using a magnifying glass 
to read a book of stories, "No mat- 
ter how hard I try, I can't read 
between the lines." 

Charlie Brown, his heart con- 
stantly set on winning, yet never 
winning anything — baseball games, 







November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


friends, or kite-flying contests, with 
his T-shirt of thorns and globe-like 
head — is a good 20th-century sym- 
bol of Everyman. Lucy, rugged in- 
dividualist and incurable optimist, 
has comments on all things and no- 
nonsense solutions for many. She 
can look a fact of life fearlessly in 
the face and wither Charlie Brown 
or her brother, Linus, with prag- 
matic pronouncements. In her 
dedication to Schroeder, however, 
she is vulnerable. Schroeder, in 
turn, lives only for his piano, upon 
which he plays the works of his 
beloved Beethoven. 

The sensitive Linus, almost but 
not quite an intellectual, can admit 
he is insecure, but cannot give up 
the symbol of his insecurity, the 
blanket he carries which Lucy calls 
his "spiritual tourniquet." 

Some readers interpret the dog, 
Snoopy, to be a Christ figure, but 
at most he is probably a "little 
Christ," a rather typical Christian 
with a few more "character traits" 
(the term Linus uses for foibles) 
than we would expect of divinity. 
But when Charlie Brown falls on 
the ice and cannot get home, it is 
Snoopy who rescues his friend. He 
is a "peculiar dog," says Charlie 
Brown, a term that is reminiscent 
of a Bible reference to Christians 
as "a peculiar people, zealous of 
good works" (Titus 2:14 KJV). 

Certain theological motifs run 
throughout the strip. Appearing 
most frequently are expressions of 
the human side of the divine- 
human encounter traditionally 

described by the doctrine of 
original sin. For Charlie Brown's 
"whole trouble" does not come from 
anything he has done wrong. It 
lies deeper, it is a state, stem- 
ming from who he is. "The whole 
trouble with you is that you're 
you\" Lucy tells him. "Well, what 
in the world can I do about that?" 
he asks. "I don't pretend to be able 
to give advice," she replies. "I 
merely point out the trouble." 
Original sin means that basic hu- 
man nature, in every individual, is 
not what it ought to be. According- 
ly, it is not enough for a man to be 
born once; he must be born twice, 
or "born again." This is why 
genuine change in human attitudes 
is so very rare — sin has a far 
deeper, or more "original," hold 
on our lives than we would ordi- 
narily like to think. This inability 
to really change one's own life is 
a constant theme in Peanuts. 

The war between sin and 
righteousness that can thus go on 
within man is explained graphically 
by Lucy, who draws a picture of 
"the human heart," darkens one 
side, and tells Linus: "One side is 
filled with hate and the other side 
is filled with love. These are the 
two forces which are constantly at 
war with each other." Or, as St. 
Paul put it: "I see in my members 
another law at war with the law 
of my mind and making me captive 
to the law of sin which dwells in 
my members" (Romans 7:23). 

Peanuts has been called "a child's 
garden of reverses" because it is 

concerned with sin and the spirit- 
ual death that is its wages. Sin here 
is the worshiping of that which is 
not God — which, of course, can in- 
clude anything. All the litde folks 
in Peanuts embody the tragic flaw 
of idolatry, and each collects his 
inevitable wages for pumping first- 
rate concerns into second-rate 
causes. Lucy idolizes Schroeder; 
Schroeder worships Beethoven; 
Charlie Brown bends his heart and 
soul toward winning; Linus has his 
heart wrapped up in his blanket. 
But even the "portable security" of 
Linus' blanket is prey to the pre- 
cariousness and ambiguity of exist- 
ence^ — or "the judgment of God," 
to put it another way. Snoopy 
snatches the blanket away; Lucy 
makes it into a kite that is acciden- 
tally released to orbit the globe; 
Linus' "blanket-hating grandma" 
constantly threatens it; and wash- 
day incapacitates it. 

But the dreadful "sickness unto 
death" that is the consequence of 
sin does not always wait for the 
collapse of particular idols. More 
often, it is expressed as a kind of 
nameless or nebulous anxiety. 
Charlie Brown confesses that the 
one location in which he always 
feels out of place is — "earth!" 

It is through this holy terror or 
spiritual death that one learns the 
dread of sin, and thus it is fear 
that teaches us to remember God's 
own program of salvation. Men 
always have rebelled against this 
harsh manner of teaching. Job 
cries out against God: "Thou hast 

64 November-[)e< ember 107) [QGITHLR 

turned cruel to me; with the might 
of thy hand diou dost persecute 
me" (Job 30:21). Yet it is also Job 
who finally tells us, "Behold, the 
fear of the Lord, that is wisdom" 
(Job 28:28). The little people in 
Peanuts often show us how this 
valuable lesson is learned, as when 
Linus revolts against memorizing 
his part in the Christmas program 
until Lucy brandishes her clenched 

The author of Ecclesiastes tells 
us that all of man's hopes and 
dreams and efforts, apart from his 
fear of God, are "vanity and a striv- 
ing after wind" (Ecclesiastes 2:11 ). 
Charlie Brown's hopes and dreams 
and efforts are quite literally "a 
striving after wind." For all of 
Charlie Brown's windy efforts seem 
to be summed up in his kites. None 
of them has ever quite gotten off 
the ground. They always meet the 
barrier of the tree, a literary and 
biblical symbol for the cross or 
Crucifixion, which can also be ex- 
tended to symbolize the crucifixion 
of all our hopes, dreams, efforts, 
and false gods. 

Charlie Brown's kites fall afoul 
of every imaginable kind of tree. 
Thus he would certainly under- 
stand the ancient Hebrew law from 
which Paul said Christ had de- 
livered us: "Cursed be every one 
who hangs on a tree" (Galatians 
3:13). This kind of curse does seem 
to be on Charlie Brown. 

But for Charlie Brown, just as 
for the Christian, the tree that first 
seems to be an archenemy becomes 
our central support and refuge. As 
Lucy tells Linus, trees "prevent 
erosion, their wood is used to build 
beautiful houses, they provide 
shade from the sun, protection from 
the rain. And [as she sees Charlie 
Brown dolefully leaning against 
one] when life gets too hard, they 
are very good to lean against." 

The central tone in Peanuts is 
"good grief; and the redemptive 
element that transforms grief into 
good comes about through Snoopy. 
Being a dog, Snoopy is more lowly 
than the other members of the 
Peanuts crew, but at the same time 
this outward distinction seems to 
represent an infinite inward differ- 
ence. As the "hound of heaven," 
Snoopy 's job seems to be to afflict 
the comfortable and comfort the 

There are theological implica- 
tions, also, in Linus' imaginary 
"Great Pumpkin," who will "bring 
toys to all the good little boys and 
girls" every Halloween. Linus ad- 
mits he has been "guilty of heresy" 
when for the umpteenth consecu- 
tive year the "Great Pumpkin" fails 
to appear. When the "expected 
one" finally does arrive, it is only 
Snoopy, poking his head up out 
of the pumpkin patch. 

Snoopy has other humiliating ex- 
periences. One of them, in which 
he is repelled by his friends as he 
devotedly attempts to lick their 
hands, faces, and feet, is remark- 
ably similar to the passage in John 
(13:8), in which Christ is attempt- 
ing to wash the feet of his disciples : 
"Peter said to him, Tou shall never 
wash my feet.' Jesus answered him, 
'If I do not wash you, you have 
no part in me.' Simon Peter said to 
him, 'Lord, not my feet only but 
also my hands and my head!' " 

The Bible has used the dog as 
a symbol for faith because before 
a man can become a Christian he 
must take on the dog's watchful- 
ness, his lowly obedience, loyalty 
to his master, and service to 
others. Snoopy knows this lowli- 
ness also means beatitude. Ponder- 
ing "why some are born dogs while 
others are born people," he ex- 
claims: "Why should I have been 
the lucky one?" 


Far more theological undertones 
can be seen in the parables of Pea- 
nuts, but by this time others will 
want to try their own hands at 
"reading between the lines." I am 
sure everyone can enjoy the strip 
for its offbeat humor, whether he 
also enjoys looking for a deeper 
level of meaning or not. But the 
meaning is obviously there. For, 
as Mr. Schulz has put it, "Humor 
which does not say anything is 
worthless humor. So I contend that 
a cartoonist must be given a chance 
to do his own preaching." 

The son of a St. Paul, Minn., 
barber, Schulz spent two years try- 
ing to get out of the eighth grade, 
and finally graduated from high 
school after flunking Latin, English, 
algebra, and physics. 

His career as a cartoonist did 
not begin auspiciously, either. His 
high school rejected the cartoons 
he submitted for its yearbook. He 
took correspondence courses from 
an art school in Minneapolis, then 
was scooped up by the draft into 
World War II. His first art job 
was free lance and part time, doing 
lettering for a Roman Catholic 
comic magazine. One day the 
magazine bought a cartoon in 
which a little boy said: "Y know 
Judy, I think I could learn to love 
you if your batting average was 
just a little higher." It set the pat- 
tern for today's Peanuts. □ 




November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


Christian Art 
:he Ages 

^URING long, dark centuries when 
w people could read, the biblical stories 
lined new dimensions for millions 
irough the magnificent paintings and 
:ulptures that are Christianity's precious 
eritage today. 

Some believe the church has produced 
ttle that is worthwhile in religious art 
uring the recent past, that what we 
te is either saccharine and sentimental 
r harsh and inexplicable. But 
edicated, serious artists do still work 
t presenting the message of our faith 
i new ways. Only time will tell 
/hether the paintings of Italian masters 
uch as Perugino (left) will speak more 
learly to future generations than, for 
•xample, the modern concepts of India's 
rank Wesley whose Return of the 
'rodigal is at right. 

Since 1956, Together has liberally 
eatured both old and new art — from 
{lake to Dali, Rembrandt to Sallman, 
vlunkacsy to Rouault, along with others 
vhose names are lost to antiquity, 
ieldom is there agreement between the 
experts and laymen as to what constitutes 
jood Christian art. 

But tastes in art change, and 
:on temporary Protestantism — after 
l>everal centuries of minimizing painting 
jand sculpture — is discovering the 
importance of art in conveying the depth 
'and meaning of the Christian experience. 
Thus, Protestantism has returned to a 
partnership which began soon after 
Christ when paintings by his persecuted 
followers appeared on the walls of 
Roman catacombs. 



From March, 1967 

George P. Miller 


1 HIS WHOLE business of war 
disturbs me. I was too young to be 
drafted in World War II or Korea. 
Now I'm a preacher, draft-exempt. 
I have never felt compelled to en- 
list as a chaplain. The truth is, I 
am not eager to see war firsthand. 
As a Christian, I find the argu- 
ments for pacifism very persuasive. 
But there is a conflict within me. I 
can't see letting innocents be over- 
run by aggressors. 

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot 
about it lately, especially since this 
kid from my hometown was killed 
in Viet Nam. He was 19. My par- 
ents knew him and thought a lot 
of him. My dad, a veteran, was 
pretty upset about the whole thing. 
My hometown is a little Ken- 
tucky county seat. Nearly everyone 
is related by blood or marriage 
and. if they aren't kin, at least they 
come pretty close. They had a big 
military funeral for the boy. 

This was in my mind the other 
morning when I read that a boy 
from here in Lexington had been 
killed. He was 19, too. I decided 
to go to his funeral. It was really 
an impulse. No one there knew 
me, nor did I know any of them. 
I just sat down in the back row of 
the chapel. 

Ministers don't attend many 
funerals that someone else con- 

ducts. They ought to. It brings 
some things into focus. For in- 
stance, I noticed the fumbling, 
self-conscious way friends came. 
But they come, and that's what 

There were two or three teen- 
age boys. They looked like be- 
wildered children in spite of their 
long hair and austere expressions. 
One wanted to cry and chewed his 
lip until I thought it would bleed. 
They had to be friends of the dead 
soldier. He probably had that 
austere look once himself. 

An organ was playing quiet 
hymns designed to comfort the 
bereaved. The dead soldier prob- 
ably preferred rock 'n' roll. I looked 
at his young friends to see if they 
were reacting that way, but they 
were too hurt to listen or to care. 

I felt more at ease when the min- 
ister started the service. His voice 
rose and fell as he read the familiar 
Scriptures. I wondered what he 
would say. What would I say? 
What does anyone say? 

When a clergyman first begins a 
funeral service, the survivors al- 
ways look up at him so anxiously, 
so expectantly. It is awesome. They 
look like they expect you to raise 
the dead, or at least say something 
miraculous that will heal the hurt. 
Their eyes beg for healing. 

As you speak, you see them sink 
back into their sorrow and with- 
draw. They are not angry with you, 
though, for they know that no one 
can really share their sorrow or 
defeat their enemy. 

Like the other listeners, I was 
comforted by the sound of the pas- 
tor's voice, but I couldn't concen- 
trate on what he was saying. I 
looked over to where the family 
was sitting. The mother was a large 
woman, and her face was flushed. 
She swallowed rapidly several 
times, each time literally choking 
down her spasms of grief. 

Unaccustomed to sitting still, she 
wanted to touch her son, to hold 
him, to scold him for enlisting in 
the army. I wanted to sit beside 
her and let her tell me about the 
boy. That would have helped her. 
She coughed and choked again 
and moved her ponderous weight 
in the chair. For some reason I 
thought of Mary, helpless at the 
loot of the cross. 

The father was completely with- 
drawn. Not a tear. He was of aver- 
age size, average appearance. You 
meet fellows like him every day 
and never notice or remember 
them. They put gas in your car, 
or sell you shoes, or fix your 
gutters, or deliver your mail. He 
was nobody to me. Or maybe he 


November-Dec ember 1973 TOGETHER 

was more to me than I ever could 

I wondered what he was think- 
ing about. The pride he had felt 
when the boy was a baby, or the 
times the boy had sat in his lap, 
or maybe hit a double with the 
bases full? As I watched him, he 
winced nearly imperceptibly. Was 
it the realization of loss, or was it 
a painful memory? Like all fathers, 
he had failed at times. That pain- 
ful thought would cause him to 

A little girl about 10 sat by the 
father. A sister? I guess she wasn't 
as confused as she was afraid. 
Naked fear all over her little face. 
in her eyes and her shaking hands. 
Afraid of death and of her parents 
in this strange, somber mood. 
Afraid of the minister and the 

Death is for grown-ups, not chil- 
dren. Little girls should play dolls, 
skip rope, and wear frilly dresses. 
They should not be in funeral 
homes. Leave the wars and funer- 
als for adults. They have lived 
enough and sinned enough to die. 

When the minister finished his 
message, he led in prayer. The 
prayer was brief and I knew he 
was glad it was over. He had done 
his best, but it wasn't good enough. 
It never is. 

The funeral director and an as- 
sistant moved the flowers and 
bolted the casket. In a matter of 
minutes, they had lined up the 
casket bearers, ushered the family 
to the cars, and had the procession 
on the road behind a police escort. 
Before we left, a janitor was 
vacuuming up the rose petals. 

I joined the procession. By now 
I wanted to say something to the 
boy's family. They looked so lonely 
and afraid. 

As we drove toward the national 
cemetery, my reactions became 
better focused. I was going to see 
the boy buried because I felt in- 
debted to him. He had died for me 
and my kids. He deserved some 

The cars passed us by. They 
slowed down but didn't stop. A 
lineman on a utility pole looked 
down at us. A Greyhound rushed 
by on the other side. A woman 
mowing a yard glanced our way. 
Some boys were playing ball in a 
vacant lot. University students 

were hurrying to class. The disc 
jockey on my car radio was selling 
soft drinks. 

The world was going on with 
business as usual. It bothered me. 
The kid was dead and maybe 50 
people cared enough to stand by 
his grave. Someone should have 
told those other people that a hero 
was riding by. Maybe if they had 
known, they would have stopped 
. . . tipped their hats . . . saluted . . . 
raised the flag. 

No, that is not the point. Heroes 
die so kids can play ball on vacant 
lots, and women can mow their 
grass, and students can learn or 
demonstrate, and disc jockeys can 
sell soft drinks. It is not heroic if 
the world stops when you go by. 
The fine sheen of courage loses its 
luster if it is marred by adoration 
and praise. Best that men go on 
their way. Heroes, even kids who 
die in a confusing war, would be 
embarrassed at flag-raising and 

The cemetery was a product of 
the Civil War. Not many graves 
have been opened there since 
World War II. It is out in the 
country — way out in the country. 

This is not the contrived silence 
of a funeral chapel, where every 
noise is smothered by accoustical 
tile and the hum of an- air condi- 
tioner. This is the silence of the 
woodlands. You can hear the birds 
and bugs and breezes. 

The preacher read and prayed 
again. A young soldier down over 
the hill played taps. As he played, 
the old sexton folded the flag and 
laid it on the mother's lap. She 
pulled the flag to her big bosom 
and held it there like a baby. 

I felt awkward now, and obvi- 
ous. Somehow everyone seemed to 
look at me, but no one saw me. 
Viet Nam? I'm no politician or 
statesman. Maybe it's all wrong, 
our being there and all that. They 
wall have to work it out at higher 
levels. But this kid died alone in a 
jungle 10,000 miles from home. Of 
that I'm sure. God help us all. 

I walked over to the mother and 
father and took them by the hand. 
I wasn't acting the preacher. I was 
just a man with two youngsters of 
his own. "I came because I'm grate- 
ful," I said. "I didn't know your 
boy, nor do I know you, but thanks. 
Thanks a lot!" □ 


Advisory Committee 
for Educational 
for Clergy 
and Laity 

In cooperation with New College of 
the University of Edinburgh. 

An educational 
program on 
"The Living Word 
And The World" 
at Edinburgh, 


Faculty includes: 

Dr. James Stuart 
Dr. William Barclay 
Dr. John Mclntyre 
Dr. Gordon Rupp 
Dr. Franz Hildebrand 
Dr. J. C. Blackie 
Dr. G. Anderson 
Dr. H. Anderson 
Dr. John Gray 
Dr. Leonard Small 

Depart: August 7 and Return: 
August 22, 1974. 



from Dallas, Atlanta, Chicago, 

Visit: London, English Country- 
side, Scotland and Edinburgh. 

Committee Members are: 

Bishop Dwight Loder 

Bishop W. McFerrin Stowe 
Bishop Earl Hunt 
Bishop Fredrick Wertz 
Bishop James Thomas 
Bishop James Henley 
Dr. Gerald McCulloh 
Dr. James Ridgway- 

Executive Director 

For details write: 

Committee for Educational 


Post Office Box 23446 

Oakland Park, Fla. 33307 


Add ress 

City State 

Area Code 


Home Phone. 

Business Phone 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


B. Bhansali— August, 1964 

The Beauty of the Earth... 


I roi 

rom the first issue, we have 
shared with you the awe and grandeur 
of an earth alive with natural beauty, 
portraying our own favored land as well 
as the breathtaking wonders of the 
entire ocean-washed, cloud-flecked globe. 
Thanks to modern photography and 
recent advances in color printing, 
it has been possible to reproduce many 

hundreds of pictures of this 

kind — more, perhaps, than have been 

reproduced in any other church publication. 

Many pictures have been pretty, 
yes, but they did not appear tor the sake 
of prettiness alone. Rather, 
the beauty of the earth has been 
presented in Together with deep reverence 
for the Master Hand we 


Novt'mt)iT-l)c( ember l')7i TO(,l I ME R 

sense behind all of nature. 
Thus, it has seemed to us, the 
leaf-strewn surface of a New 
England stream in autumn is like 
unto Oregon's sea-carved coastline; 
and the winds that sigh soft 
anthems in the misty cloudlands of 
the Great Smokies are forever 
the same as those that roll 
tumbleweeds across deserts where 
wild flowers bloom almost overnight 
when rare rains fall. 

We believe that in the 
beauty of our earth, one can find 
relief for weariness of the mind, an 
antidote that restores sanity 
and spiritual balance, that 
lifts our thoughts above much that 
is ugly, tawdry, and false in 
the man-made world. 

Above all, the abundance 
of natural beauty around us is a 
constant reminder of God's eternal, 
comforting love. 

O. F. Oldendorph— March, 1966 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


A few miles off the beaten path, high above a river valley, 

he finds unspoiled grandeur where winds blow wild and free, and 

distance lends blue-green enchantment to every horizon. 

The View From Mt. Nebo 

Associate Editor 

From July, 1967 


URING THE NIGHT, the storm struck the south 
end of the mountain, moaning and shrieking in the 
wind-gnarled pines around my cabin at the edge of 
the cliff. I awoke to rolling thunder, and to lightning 
so vivid I could tell the time — 3 a.m. — and see tree- 
tops, like tossing blades of grass, in the valley nearly 
2.000 feet below. 

Forked fingers of light probed the valley, playing 
among the summit cliffs of lonely, uninhabited Spring 
Mountain to the west. Thunder growled down the 
chimney's rock throat and, thwarted, stalked away 
across the valley, grumbling. 

I was alone on the mountain, as far as I knew, 
except for the park superintendent and his family — a 
long hike away through wind-lashed forest — and I 
liked it. 

I had wanted to photograph the rising sun from a 
craggy point, half a mile away. Three hours before 
dawn I made a pot of coffee, burned an egg, fried 
toast in a skillet, and discovered there was no salt 
or sugar. No morning newspaper, radio, or television, 
either, and that didn't seem to matter at all. 

Later, in morning darkness, I found my way by 
flashlight to partial shelter among trees and over- 
hanging rocks. By 5:30 a.m., I could see the leading 
edge of the storm front moving 30 or 40 miles away 
to the cast with sullen flarings and occasional angry 
bolts followed by thunder that reverberated time and 
again from mountain walls on all sides of me. 

Now and then the gray clouds would part briefly 
and the broad valley, with its scattering of lights, 
would appear far below. In the misty half-dawn, the 
lights — ordinarily white — appeared as green gems 
floating in a sea of ink. 

All over the area, rain was falling. It was raining 
on 2,800-foot Magazine Mountain, over the spring-fed 
headwaters of Little Buffalo and Big Buffalo, the 
White and Horsehead; it was slashing across Devil's 
Knob, and falling on the little mountain communi- 
ties of Bass, Deer, Jerusalem, and Lost Corner. In 
the 1.065,000 acres of the Ozark National Forest, to 
the north, I knew the rangers would be changing the 

fire danger signs from "very high" to nonexistent. 

The cold rain that dripped from my nose and 
seeped under my collar to chill my backbone also was 
seeping down through thick carpets of oak leaves 
and moss, into limestone sinkholes and forest loam. 
It was raining on Petit Jean Mountain, across the 
valley, and sheets of rain obscured lonely Spring 
Mountain where ancient pear trees — planted and 
then deserted by early settlers — would soon be 
abloom. But nowhere on that forbidding height was 
there anyone to know. 

Long after sunrise, the gray haze of water vapor 
lingered against the sun, and the electric eye of my 
camera repeatedly said "no" to any photograph. I 
went back to the cabin along a trail where mountain 
wild flowers nodded their heads in appreciation for 
every raindrop, and I sat beside the rock fireplace 
listening to the wind. 

At this elevation, the wind blows almost all the 
time. It sings, sighs, howls, roars, and shakes this 
cabin of stone, on and of the mountain. The moun- 
tain is like a seashore, constantly subject to wind 
rather than waves, and it sounds here even when 
calm, hot days fall upon the valley. 

Down there somewhere under the scudding clouds, 
dogwood is in full flower. When I saw it yesterday 
banked against the eastern heights of the mountain, 
I was reminded of snowfields that linger in the sun. 

From a distance, my mountain is the same blue, 
monolithic, forested giant that loomed always on the 
horizons of my youth. But time and weather, includ- 
ing this morning's heavy rain, have been at work. 
Every decade or so some giant boulder comes crash- 
ing down a precipitous slope and through the trees. 
No longer, for instance, can I find my way down a 
rockslide to a little cave-balcony where I once whiled 
away summer afternoons watching the buzzards ride 
the updrafts hour after hour with scarcely a move- 
ment of their great wings. 

In the late afternoon, when the sun came out, I 
went to the north end of the mountain and looked 
down on the new lake that thrusts liquid fingers into 
all the valleys and hollows formed by the down- 
flowing Ozark streams. Far beyond the lake, now 
teeming with fish, are Arkansas' deep-blue mountain 
ranges that feed Big Piney, Little Piney, the Mul- 
berry, the Illinois, Hurricane Creek, and smaller 
streams. In none is there a trace of industrial waste. 

"The day was beautiful. Sunny and mild. Wind whipped 
around the cabin of the boat. The stern churned a spar- 
kling wake in the water. . . . But as the boat approached 
the industrial area with air filled with putrid odors from 
chemical and petroleum plants . . . smoke from the steel 
mills reinforced the sickening odors and dirtied the sky . . . 
The water was dark and ugly with oil and many varieties 
of filth." 

— Donald M. Schwartz, Chicago Sun-Times 

Many have said they climb mountains "because 
they are there," but no one has explained why some 

of us go merely to sit on a mountain, to meditate. 
to thoroughly enjoy a view from some unspoiled 
wrinkle in the earth's crust. 

If there are any psychiatrists reading this, please 
don't bother to explain. For 40 years — at least once 
a year, frequently more often — I have come to sit on 
this mountain, to walk and climb and look out over 
a world I can no more reach out and touch at the 
moment than I can sift the sands of Mars through 
my fingers. 

From this rocky cliff top, I have seen the sun rise 
scores — perhaps hundreds — of times, and I have seen 
it go down just as often. This mountain, that val- 
ley, these trees and rocks, this almost endless view, 
does something for me, and there are no words to ex- 
press exactly what. Renewal of inner resources, in- 
spiration, relaxation, wonder — words like these fit 
loosely, or hang on like faded labels. 

This morning, as I await another sunrise, the en- 
tire mountain is alive with bird calls. As the mas- 
sive bulk of the earth heaves sunward, a scarlet 
glow mounts toward the zenith long before the red 
rim of the sun appears over the crest of a distant 
mountain. Far below, the valley remains puddled in 
night, but finally the multiple mirrors of the serpen- 
tine river, and the round farm ponds, catch the light. 
Dawn seeps into places I know so well — New Hope, 
Bethel, Pisgah, Pottsville, Dardanelle, Russellville. 

"The hour is late and the agony of the land is intense. 
Most Americans have long assumed that the waste of 
resources was curbed and that victory over greed and 
wantonness was achieved in the days of Theodore Roose- 
velt. Nothing could be farther from the truth." 

— Harry M. Caudili 

I am vitally concerned about what goes on down 
there in the valley. It is home country, and I want 
to keep coming back as additional years are granted 
to me. I do not want to find here what I have seen 
in the great cities to the north and east. I do not 
want to see this new lake die as beautiful Lake Erie 
died, as the pendant jewel of Lake Michigan may be 
dying. I do not want to find "No Swimming — Polluted 
Water" signs posted at Long Pool or Blue Hole, or 
anywhere else up and down these clear rivers. 

My ancestors were among the people who helped 
settle the valley. God-fearing folks that they were, 
they named this mountain Nebo, recalling a mountain 
fastness that hides the grave of the biblical Moses. 
My forefathers fought the trees in the valley — the 
huge oaks, sweet gums, persimmons, hickories, wal- 
nuts, maples, and cottonwoods. They broke their backs 
and their hearts clearing new ground — hardest of all 
pioneer labors. 

All that — the wholesale destruction of trees — has 
changed, except where the careless or the pyromaniac 
still set fires. As a boy, I saw Nebo glint and glisten 
in the night like some monstrous ember as flames ate 
through timber and underbrush. I saw the town's 
sewage empty into the beautiful Illinois River. 

The young men and their elders in my hometown, 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 73 


• Golf 

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• Cultural & 
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Dept. T Nashville • Tennessee 37203 

co-operating with state and na- 
tional conservationists, have 
treated their valleys and mountains 
well. No longer do week-long fires 
burn along the flanks of this moun- 
tain. Xo longer does the sewage of 
a rapidly growing town pour into a 
river. Instead, there is a $2.5 mil- 
lion sewage treatment plant. And 
from the two new factories on the 
edge of town, I see not even a wisp 
of smoke this bright morning in 

"But something is happening to 
our atmosphere, even here," says 
Coy Hodges, the park superinten- 
dent. "Ten years ago, here on 
Xebo, it seemed you could look out 
and see forever in any direction. 
Xow most of the time there is a 
sort of haze that clears up only 
when it rains. The wind moves it in 
from the dusty plains, perhaps 
from Fort Smith or Tulsa not too 
far west of us." 

". . . luith increasing amounts of 
waste products concentrated in areas 
with growing populations, the relative 
effects of these wastes on man are in- 
creasing at an ever-expanding rate. 
These rates are of an insidious nature, 
a form of creeping paralysis which, if 
not recognized and corrected, can 
lead to urban stagnation and death as 
surely as the most violent epidemic." 
— A Panel of 

Distinguished Scientists 

The southeast wind this morning 
is cool, moisture laden, seemingly 
as pure as it was at the dawn of 
creation. Is it possible that only last 
week I was threading my way to 
and from work on an expressway 
near Chicago, cars speeding to the 
right and left, in front and behind, 
turning in and out, losing them- 
selves in a yellowish haze that this 
same southeast wind brings in from 
steel mills and industrial complexes 
near the city? 

The' nation is distressed. But 
here, still, are the forests, the rivers, 
the singing pines, the mountains — 
all relatively unspoiled. 

Since boyhood, I have ranged far 
and wide from this country, the 
one great mountainous area be- 
tween the Rockies and the Smokies. 
In the Smokies and the Cumber- 
lands, also, I have found some- 
thing of what I find here — some- 
thing in the great out-of-doors. I 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


have seen it and felt it from high 
trails and from other bluffs, but 
any who share my affection for the 
hills and streams of home will un- 
derstand that nowhere else is that 
emotion (mite so deep. 

Here, long ago, I took an old 
mud scow on a float trip down the 
Illinois River. Floating down one 
stretch of rapids thrilled me so 
much that I worked an hour to 
push the flat-bottomed boat up 
there again for one more ride. 

Here, as a boy, I followed the 
zigzag, stair-step course of moun- 
tain streams such as Big Piney. 
Like most around here, its down- 
hill rush is interrupted now and 
again by long blue pools that 
stretch into shallow gravel shoals. 

I grew up with John Gardner, 
now a local dentist. But he also is 
the most enthusiastic and well- 
informed amateur botanist I have 
ever known. On less than an acre 
of flowering, well-tended lawn 
around his white-columned home, 
he has planted 90 varieties of 
shrubs, and 100 varieties of trees. 

Fond as he is about all things 
growing in the earth, John Gard- 
ner does not go along with those 
who would preserve large wilder- 
ness areas accessible only by foot 
or horseback. 

"Recently I conducted a tour into 
the Ozarks, pointing out and iden- 
tifying some of the rare flowers and 
trees," he said. "If the road hadn't 
been there, the trip would not have 
been possible. For advocates of 
total, roadless wilderness, I can 
only wave my hand at more than a 
million acres of managed forests 
and streams in Ozark National For- 
est. All people should have access 
to the wonders of nature that re- 

"Our resource problems in the 
1960s ore measured by the flyway of 
a bird, the length of a river, the half- 
life of an element, the path of a wind, 
the scope of the oceans, the shape of 
our cities. The years ahead will re- 
quire both public and private con- 
servation statesmanship of a high 

— Stewart Udall 

Secretary of the Interior 

Last night, for the last time, I 
went down to Sunset Point and 
watched the south wind lav down 

a white carpet at my feet. The 
clouds moved in to obscure the 
treetop sea of greenery that sweeps 
away to break into a crest atop 
mysterious Spring Mountain. One 
by one the little lights in the valley 
were hidden from view, leaving 
only the stars above. Then a second 
cloud front rushed in like some 
titanic wave, breaking into fine 
mist among the wind-twisted trees. 

I walked back to the cabin 
through cloud country, under 
ghostly pines that dripped conden- 
sation like a gentle rain. I put 
match to paper and wood, and 
then — as flames roared up the rock 
chimney — knew I had been able to 
return home once again. 

You can go home again, you 
know — not to the town of your 
boyhood, now doubled in popula- 
tion, where almost every face on 
the street is that of a stranger; not 
for long, even, to the childhood 
friends who remain there, whose 
interests and associations you no 
longer may share. 

But you can go back, as I do, to 
your lakes, your rivers, and your 
mountains — if you are fortunate, 
and if your fellowmen have been 
wise in protecting that which we 
have the power to destroy, but not 
to re-create . . . not even in a mil- 
lion years. □ 

Epilogue: Almost seven years 
later, the view of unbroken forest 
between Mt. Nebo and its twin, 
lonely Spring Mountain, has been 
slashed and marred by metal 
towers carrying transmission lines, 
apparently from two nuclear power 
plants now under construction 
in the valley. The two plants — 
including a giant cooling tower 
for Unit 2 — are clearly visible 
several miles away across 
Lake Dardanelle. Although millions 
are being spent to avoid possible 
thermal pollution, the eventual 
effect, if any, of warm water 
discharge on the ecological systems 
of this huge recreational lake is 
unknown. Thus, once again, two 
vital human needs come into 
conflict — our need for natural 
beauty versus our need for more 
and more electrical energy, h.b.t. 


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November-December 1973 TOGETHER 75 

From July, 1968 




In THIS LAST third of the 20th century there is no "typical American woman." 
Contrary to the cult of youth, even to the assumption that some traits are masculine 
and others feminine, America's 74 million women and girls over 14 are of all ages, 
shapes, sizes, talents, and temperaments. And each must be a bewildering variety 
of different persons during her lifetime. 

Playing these various roles, sometimes several of them simultaneously, 
she writes her own lines and directs her own action because she lives in a world 
threatening to explode, and in a time when change is putting all 
traditional values under serious question. 

She gets the same education as her brother. Then she discovers that what she 
has learned frustrates her more than it helps her in becoming a successful wife, mother, 
and homemaker. Struggling to learn how to be these, she is told by experts that 
home and family cannot possibly offer a full-time career — she must go out 
and get a job if she is to repay society for her existence and fulfill herself 
as a person. Out, then, and working for a paycheck, other experts warn her 
that her children are suffering because she is not at home. 

She has less control over her children in any case. School takes them earlier and 
earlier, and their after-school hours are full of structured activities. At the same 
time, her husband gives her less help with them than her father gave her mother. 
He is making more business trips than his father did, spending more hours 
commuting and working late, taking more advanced business 
and professional courses. Or if he is not doing these things, he may be 
holding down two jobs to keep up with living costs. 

Magazines, newspapers, and television offer the American woman endless advice on 
how to catch and hold a husband, how to be a loving and not overly permissive or 
possessive mother, how to be a participating member of society. She hears 
correspondingly little addressed to men on how they should find and keep a wife, 
or to children on how to understand their mothers. The implication is clear. She is 
the one who has to prove herself — as John's wife, Mary's mother, Mr. Smith's 
secretary, the good neighbor next door. The proving leaves her little time to discover 
who she really is, or wants to be. 

The woman who does not marry has less complicated problems of identity, more 
independence — and less social status. Her married sisters often regard 
her with a mixture of suspicion, envy, and pity. Unwelcome in the married 
woman's mind is the recognition that she probably will outlive 
her husband and one day will be alone, too. 

Because women marry earlier, rear their families sooner, and live longer than their 
mothers, they have extra years. Only then are many able to find their individuality. 
Fewer and fewer of them are just playing out their time with more bridge. 
It is accepted that the mature woman will involve herself 
in constructive activities, and will tackle them woman-style — which means 
she will be intuitive, subjective, sensitive to relationships, and often able 
to accomplish more through relationships than by direct action. 

The American woman, like all women, is an enigma to man, often a riddle to herself. 
Preoccupied with childbearing and rearing for so many years of her life, she is more 
aware than man of the past and future. Remembering that woman has been the 
domesticator and civilizer throughout history, she cannot take seriously any 
attempt by man to diminish her. This is her strength, and her weakness. 

American women, envied by other women in the world for their status, still 
are second-class citizens under some laws, and still are enmeshed in a man-oriented 
culture. They will not change this pattern by threatening men. Rather they must 
prove, in all their relationships, that men and women complement each other, are 
necessary to each other, and are equally the beloved children of God. — Helen Johnson 

76 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

William C. Larson — July, 1968 

y lection?) on ^Secomintj a 





November-December 1973 TOGETHER 77 

Together: 1969-73 

The Recent Years 

UNION of the Evangelical United 
Brethren (EUB) and Methodist 
churches in 1968 brought with 
it the unification of the two churches' 
publishing programs. In February, 
1969, Church and Home, the EUB 
family magazine, ceased publication 
and its readers began receiving To- 
gether. The unusual cover on that 
February issue (a two-page gatefold 
like the one on the magazine you're 
now holding) portrayed in art the 
common heritage which EUBs and 
Methodists had shared from Revolu- 
tionary times. 

With the merger of the two maga- 
zines, Together welcomed to its staff 
the Church and Home editor, Dr. 
Curtis A. Chambers. He came to us 
as assistant editorial director, then 
was named editor after Richard 
Underwood accepted a position with 

By Paige Carlin 

Acting Editor, Together 

Boston University in July, 1969. Later, 
in 1972, Dr. Chambers was assigned 
the dual role of editor and editorial 
director following Dr. Ewing T. Way- 
land's move to the General Council 
on Finance and Administration. 

During the four years of Curtis 
Chambers' editorship, some of To- 
gether's most creative work was done 
in special-emphasis issues. It was 
one of these special issues — on pro- 
tecting and preserving the environ- 
ment — which helped win Associated 
Church Press honors for the maga- 
zine in 1972. This ACP Award of 
Merit for general excellence was not 
Together's first but it was one of the 
most significant points of recognition 
during the 17-year span. Three 
honorable mentions from ACP judges 
the same year included one for Asso- 
ciate Editor Herman B. Teeter's nov- 
elette, Lost Dominion, a major fea- 
ture in the special environmental 
issue. Other honorable mentions 
were for the best use of photog- 
raphy and for Dr. Chambers' Decem- 

ber, 1971, editorial, Bethlehem, Cal- 
vary, and Attica. 

In the participatory style of the 
times, a staff task force headed by 
one of Together's associate editors 
handled major responsibility for 
planning each of the special issues. 
Newman S. Cryer was chief planner 
for the environmental special, pub- 
lished in January, 1971. News Editor 
lohn A. Lovelace led the task force 
which prepared The Church Is . . . 
[November, 1971], a composite lay- 
man's-eye view of United Methodism 
based on numerous interviews with 
church members throughout the 

A special emphasis on the prob- 
lems of America's elderly [June, 
1972] was planned with Herman 
Teeter as the task-force chairman 
and Helen Johnson as a major con- 
tributor after she participated in the 
1971 White House Conference on 


AOot .s«on 

(or * e n 


\a & ' .<- \jn\te< 

Kaleidoscope eod »•-»= 

Zr Head-to-Foot H^'lell 

Will the T ' 



Aw akening 
Miss the 


Aging. Martha A. Lane planned and 
did much of the writing for a special 
report, What Hope for the American 
Criminal? [November, 1972], col- 
laborating with Art Editor Robert C. 
Goss and Picture Editor George P. 
Miller in preparation of theme-setting 
cover pictures both for that issue 
and for the special Discipleship issue 
of March, 1973. Art, picture, and 
managing editors participated exten- 
sively in the planning and execution 
of all five special emphases. 

Most monthly issues, of course, 
have not been specials, and in these 
the editors' goal has been in part to 
reflect the rich variety of United 
Methodism's people and the wide 
range of their interests and concerns. 
Major space was given to such topics 
as Where We Are in Evangelism 
[April, 1971] and the Lay Witness 
movement [February, 1972] and 
also to pieces like Associate Editor 
James F. Campbell's firsthand report 
on Black Capitalism — Omaha [March, 
1972] and Martha Lane's roundup on 

Associated Church Press 
j XQ1Z 

presented to 


General cyxcefleitce 

■Mri lAan^ . . \lhi> fa 

The Church and Low-Income Hous- 
ing [May, 1972]. 

In March and August-September 
issues this year, the contrasting styles 
of two lively, witnessing congrega- 
tions — Faith United Methodist in 
Phoenix, Ariz., and First Church, 
Collingswood, N.J. — were reported 
with equal sympathy. 

To enable individual United Meth- 
odists to make their views more 
widely known, the Stimulus/Response 
format was introduced in 1971 and 
the Say It! column was added in 

Early this year, not long after the 

United Methodist Board of Publica- 
tion authorized creation of a new 
magazine to replace Together in 
1974, Editor Chambers was asked to 
accept election as executive secre- 
tary of United Methodism's new 
Joint Committee on Communica- 
tions. He moved to that post last 
July. As this final issue of Together 
is being printed, the publication 
board is choosing his successor. 

I have acted as Together's editor 
in an interim capacity since July, and 
this has included presiding over the 
preparation of this final issue. A 
word about that seems in order. This 
issue is the result of strenuous efforts 
by many members of the editorial 
staff and, as Herman Teeter observes 
in his Seventeen Years With Together 
[page 1], the task has been far more 
complex than we at first imagined. 

The issue is segmented into three 
parts, each corresponding to the in- 
cumbency of one of Together's edi- 
tors, and we have tried for a sam- 
pling of articles and pictures rep- 
resentative of the magazine's entire 
17-year history. Appropriately, we 
think, more space has been devoted 
to material from the early and middle 
years than from more recent issues. 
We hope you will understand; we're 
confident Dr. Chambers will. □ 

■ -- 1 . 

:alvarv, and Attica 


Wrong Nv>* • 
what They n 

. „,•*»*« hJ ** r T 

i. ii 

From June, 1972 

The pat or kiss that heals a child's hurts is equally comforting to the old. 

The Power 

of a 

By Frances Fowler Allen 

ALMOST EVERYBODY cuddles babies. Few people 
willingly touch the old, yet they need it so des- 
perately. Long after sight, hearing, speech, mental 
faculties are lost or impaired, the sense of touch remains. 

Touch seems the first of the senses to awaken; the 
last to die. The newborn baby touches his mother's 
breast with grasping mouth, little kneading hands. Later 
he explores, by touch, his own nose, his mouth, his 
blanket, all of his world that he can reach. The little 
child is comforted by touch — the pat and kiss "makes 
it well'' when he's hurt, the clasp of loving arms when 
thunder roars, steadying grown-up hands when he first 
totters across a room. 

Likewise to the old, returned to childhood, touch is 
sometimes all that is left of the outside world. When 
our family doctor visited my mother in her last illness, 
she was showing no sign of consciousness. He lifted her 
limp hand, placed it upon his vital one upon the bed. 
Gently he called her name. "If you know me," he said, 
"just press my hand." Awed, I saw her fingers flutter as 
she obeyed. Later I tried this myself, astounded at the 
strong grasp from my mother whom I had thought 
was beyond all human response. 

In spite of their exaggerations, perhaps "sensitivity 
groups" have something. And family and friends feel a 
real spirit of communication when they join hands to 
say grace about the table or sing a song. A vital spark 
seems to pass from hand to hand. 

In stories of Jesus' healing miracles, how often touch 
is highlighted! He touched the hand of Peter's mother- 
in-law, and the fever left her (Matthew 8:14, 15). He 
took the daughter of Jairus by the hand, saying, "Child, 
arise," and her spirit returned (Luke 8:54, 55). Then 
there was the leper, obliged by law to ring a bell if he 
came into the crowded city so no one by accident should 
touch him. Desperate hope brought him to kneel before 
Christ saying, "Lord, if you will, you can make me clean." 
Then Jesus "stretched out his hand and touched him" — 

the untouchable! — saying, "I will; be clean" (Matthew 
8:2, 3). 

If touching is so important, why don't we more often 
touch the old and lonely? Let's face it, many old people 
are physically unattractive. Old hands are thin and claw- 
like, wrinkled skin unappealing, old eyes watery. Sparse 
hair thinly covering a freckled scalp is not a crown of 
glory! Younger people have to overcome some repulsion. 
However, it can be done. 

Martha was a practical nurse in a nursing home for old 
people, a middle-aged, overworked, gruff, no-nonsense 
person. Many of the other nurses were more highly 
trained in professional skills. Yet when Martha plodded 
around the wards on her tired flat feet, trembling old 
arms were held out to her, faces upturned to her worn 
homely face, quavering voices called, "Martha! Martha!" 
And she, knowing the heart-hunger, the cold, the lone- 
liness of the old, was lavish with her touch. Usually she 
only patted a cheek or pushed the hair back from a 
forehead, but sometimes she sensed a special need and 
gave a real hug. Also, she praised, seeming to find 
something to admire in the unlovely. "Martha told me I 
had pretty arms when she gave me my bath today," a 
once-beautiful woman confessed shyly. "I . . . appreciated 
that. Nowadays" (wryly she looked down on her half- 
paralyzed body), "I don't get many compliments." 

I was making many visits to Martha's nursing home 
because my mother was living (if you can call it that) 
there. I dreaded the visits more than words can tell. To 
me the nursing home seemed a quiet Dante's Inferno. 
All afternoon the more able-bodied old people sat, 
vacant eyed, in the stifling heat of the living room 
where a television set turned loud for failing ears blasted 
constantly, and canned TV laughter cackled. 

The moment I arrived on one especially low Sunday, 
Mrs. Baxter, who thought the nursing home was her 
family home, assailed me: "I simply cannot ask you to 
stay to dinner. My staff isn't prepared for so many. This 
is my house my dear father left me. I'll call the police 
and have you evicted." 

I avoided looking at toothless Mr. Dunn, whose cheer- 
fulness made me angry. I strode past Mr. Barnes in his 
wheelchair, his slipping blanket revealing amputated 
legs, past Mrs. Canby rocking and nursing her rag doll 
and Mrs. Scott who could not speak without swearing. 
I shut my ears while passing the room where an old 
German lady lay all day crooning to herself in the lan- 
guage of her childhood, occasionally calling out: "Vasser! 
Vasser!" I was repelled by all of them. I prayed to feel 

The following week I read somewhere: "We must 
carry our crosses, not just drag them along." Could this 
apply to my Sunday-afternoon nightmares? Should I try 
Martha's method, the method of a greater one than 
Martha, the power of a gentle touch? 

The following Sunday, feeling foolish, I made my way 
around the living room circle, greeting each one, shak- 
ing hands. The response shook me to the soul. Eyes I 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

George P. Miller 


had thought dull as marbles kindled, wrinkled hands 
returned my clasp. Week after week, as I repeated the 
little ceremony, I learned to care for my old folks. I also 
learned whatever I said to them mattered little. They 
wanted someone to touch their hands, look into their 
eyes, greet them by name. Those whom I had thought 
speechless — even the irrational ones — responded. 

Mrs. Baxter decided to give a dinner party for all these 
strangers in her home, rather than call the police. She 
would use her best silver, she promised. Mr. Barnes 
reminisced about the days he had two good legs and 
was a roofer, up high in the sunshine. 

When I admired her crocheted apron, Mrs. Scott told 
me without a single cussword, "Time was when I did 
a lot of fancywork, but then I lost my father and husband 
and my little girl all in one year; seems like I couldn't 
take up my needle again." Toothless Mr. Dunn informed 

me he was 90. "My sons brought me here to die two 
years ago. I fooled 'em and got well. Ever since I keep 
spry by helping nurses tote the trays, and bringing her 
in that little room a cup of cold water." 

At last one Sunday I passed that little room. Winter 
dusk was falling, the lights had not yet been turned on. 
It was the saddest time of day. The old woman looked 
so small and flat under the gray blanket. Her large dark 
eyes seemed to follow me. Was she trying to say some- 
thing? On impulse I went in, bent over her. "Vasser?" 
I asked. Her hand, brown-flecked, dry as a dead leaf, lay 
palm up on the blanket. I took it in both my own. It was 
cold. She looked up, recognition in eyes I'd always 
thought so vacant. "Nein," she said. Then she continued 
in English. Perhaps for all of us she voiced our deepest 
need. "I'm lonesome. Just hold my hand." The gentle 
touch! □ 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


From June, 1970 

Letters From Elsewhere by Herman B. Teeter 

'I Myself have 
Counted it All up... and 

in the Mail I May 
have Won $117,450.32' 


Deer Editur: 

One thing nice I can say about your Together magazine, 
Mr. Editur, is that you havent wrote me and said I may 
already have won $50,000 and a free trip to the 
Bermuders or somers like that if onley I will send in my 
4 Luckie Numbers and $15.00 for a 5 year suscription. 

Your magazine is about the onley 1 that has not did 
this and therefour I wish to Xpress my deep apreciation 
since I and several of my naybors is either drove about 
crazy or into bankruptsy by all the things we may have 
already won during the past winter, which has been 
a real hard one. 

Things was froze solid and the rodes was not passible 
for most of the month of Feb., Xcept for the mail man 
who sports a 4-wheel drive, and therefour their wasnt 
nothing much for anybody to do but set at home in 
front of their farplace and dream about all the money, 
trips, cars, tv sets, and $200.00 per month for life they 
may already have won according to the mail they was 

I myself have counted it all up, Mr. Editur, and found 
that since last Oct. in the mail I may have won $117,450.32 
if I had ordered the records, cyclopedias, and magazines 
that was so generously offered me. This sometimes keeps 
me wide eyed awake in bed at night or causes me to 
toss restless on the sofa after Sun. dinner. 

But you should see what it has did to Froggie Fenton, 
formerly a prosperus and sustantial citizen and solid 
piller of the Elsewhere United Methodist Church who 
has literal gone to peaces in 3 mos. time. I went to visit 
Froggie one p.m. last week to ast him why he was not 
keeping up his pledge to the church like he always done 
until now, and also to pick up a item or 2 as Elsewhere 
coresptd. for the Weekly Clarion to which I am generously 
rewarded with a free anual suscription for my trouble. 

Well, I could tell that Froggie was in dire straights the 
minit I was admitted to his parlor which looked like it 

was a warehouse for a Seers Rowbuck or a Woolwerth 
5 & 10. 

"Did you notise, Hegbert, has the maleman come?" 
Froggie ast me before I could even say howdy, ast him 
about his pledge or if he knew any news. 

"No he has not came yet," I replied. "Was you 
Xpecting a important leter Froggie?" 

"I am due to recieve 30 LP records in the Great Tresury 
of Operyatic Music, plus a all-Xpense trip to Hawaii for 
me and my wife who has just now up and left me for 
reasons unknown," Froggie said. 

He was shaking like a leaf and ringing his hands. 

"Froggie you cant play no records. You dont have no 

"I could buy me 1 with the money I am about to 
receive from the big New York company which wrote 
and said the Fenton family is one of the select few in the 
Elsewhere community eligible to receive a $1,000 cash 
award, plus numerous other prises, and may already be 
a winner in the 1970 Grand Sweepstakes." 

Yes, I told Froggie, you are among the select few 
which includes the Clutters, Freemans, Casons, Browns, 
Sullivans, Creekmores, Logans, Walkers, and Goosen- 
berrys, which just about takes care of everybody here- 
abouts. "Not one of them" I declared, "has won a 
holiday trip, $200 per month for life, color tv set, long 
range 15-transister radio, or pocket pen flashlight even." 

Well, Froggie set down on a big box of books which 
he hadnt opened yet marked "The Homemakers Encyclo- 
pedia, Vols. I through 36," which he was one of the 
select few permitted to buy, and begun to moan and 
carry on. 

"Hegbert," he said, "I have fought the good fight, but 
I am at the end of my row. I am in need of a preacher, 
doctor, or brain surgon, which ever is handiest. I cannot 
pay my church pledge for which I know you have came 
hear, and if I was not so proud I would ast you to let me 
borry 5 or 10 dollars for a few days. Just look in my 
billfold. It is as bare as old Baldy Mt. in January." 

"Froggie," I said, "if I loant you any money they 
wouldnt be no room for it in that billfold, it is so stuffed 

82 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

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with credit cards. Let us get in your 
car and run over to Bro. Viktors and 
see if he can pray you out of this 

"My car aint here," Froggie said. 
"My boy Flip is out driving it. I told 
him to run it up hill and down hill 
and thru the hollers until the tank 
was empty and we could have it 
filled up again with Supreme Gas at 
the L & R Service Station which is 
giving anyone $5,000 if they have all 
the pitchers of the presidents, which 
I now have 3 or 4 of everybody 
already Xcept Andrew Johnson. Can 
you tell me Hegbert why it is that 
they dont never give me the one 
with the pitcher of Andrew Johnson 
on it so I can win the big prise?" 

I hated to leave Froggie sunk so 
low and no questions answered but 
I thought I had better hurry over and 
inlist the aid of Bro. Viktor. 

"Hegbert," Bro. Viktor said, "This 
thing is a curse and a adomnation. 
Even the widow Wagner has sus- 
cribed three times this year to the 
Farm & Family Digest Monthly maga- 
zine and aint got nothing in return 
but 3 copies of it in her mail box 
every month." 

"You know, Bro. Viktor," said I, 
"sometimes I think they ought to be 
a comandment against it. Do you 
reckon Moses didnt git down off 
Sinia Mt. with all the comandments 
the Lord give him? Maybe Moses 
slipped on a rock or some wet grass 
when he come down off Sinia and 
broke a comandment or 2." 

Bro. Viktor said he wouldnt go 
so far as to say that. "The Lord 
covered everything pretty well in a 
few words, Hegbert. All we got to do 
is study upon them words. Take 
covet, for incidence. That word 
covers a heap of ground." 

Bro. Viktor reached for his hat. 
"Well, so long Hegbert. I'd better 
mosey on over and see what I can 
do to help Froggie fight this dred 
compulsion of his." 

I dont know, Mr. Editur. Some- 
times I wisht the Lord would have 
put a kind of P.S. on the 10 com- 
andments, saying "Thou shouldst 
know thou also may not already be 
a winner!" 

Anyway, it shure wood of helped 
poor old Froggie and a lot of other 
folks down hear at Elsewhere. 
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November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


From November, 1969 




IN CELEBRATING Holy Communion, we follow the practice 
of the earliest Christians. The service, even today, is 

patterned after the Last Supper of our Lord with his 
disciples, and we continue it in response to his admonition 
that the bread and the wine have special significance for 
all who partake in memory of him. 

There is no uniformity among Christians as to either the 
proper mode of observing the Lord's Supper or the 
interpretation of its spiritual significance. Its meaning may 
be different for each person receiving Communion, or even 
for the same person on different occasions. 

Historically, there are many ways of interpreting this 
Sacrament, and among them are six moods of the spirit by 
which one might approach the Lord's table. 

The devotional mood, with its emphasis upon the word 
"Communion," implies a mystical communion between the 
Christian and his Lord. This spiritual oneness with Christ 
is a consistently unmistakable element in the long tradition 
of Holy Communion. It is so paramount an element that 
the medieval church developed the doctrine of 
transubstantiation, or miraculous change, to dramatize 
it by ritual and miracle. The early reformers modified this 
doctrine to reject the theological implications of its 
mechanism, but they maintained the validity of the Sacrament 
as a means of grace whereby the Christian may experience 
a mystical communion with his Lord, if the spiritual condition 
and devotional earnestness of the believer are right. 
Hence we pray, "so to partake of this Sacrament of thy 
Son Jesus Christ, that we may walk in newness 
of life, may grow into his likeness, and may 
evermore dwell in him, and he in us." 

A second approach is in the mood of gratitude, with its 
emphasis upon "Eucharist." In the more liturgical branches 
of the church, particularly the Roman Catholic, the sacrament 
of the Lord's Supper is referred to as the Holy Eucharist, 
and the word "Eucharist" finds its rootage in the Greek 
word which means "thanks." The Holy Eucharist is a feast of 
thanksgiving in testimony of what God has wrought in 
Jesus Christ. Reflection upon the sacrifice and death of the 
Christ, what he means to the Christian and to all 
mankind, leads to deep gratitude, which in turn 
prompts repentance and reformation. 

84 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Third is the memorial approach. The mood of memory 

puts emphasis upon the admonition of the Lord, "Do this in 

remembrance of me." So this Sacrament is a ritual of 

memory. Unfortunately, for some Christians it is no more 

than this, but this does not obscure the importance 

to the Christian of focusing his thoughts on the Master, 

his teachings and ministry, his life and death. Participation in 

Holy Communion in memory of him prompts a contrition 

of heart, a call to duty, and a constancy of discipleship. 

A fourth approach to Holy Communion is in a mood 

of fellowship, as Christians gather about the table of their 

Lord to bear witness to their unity in him. This is the 

Christian community affirming its faith and its oneness in 

Christ. The bond of fellowship is exhibited and strengthened 

as, side by side, members of that community take the loaf 

and the cup. The celebration of Worldwide Communion 

in recent years has become more meaningful as Christians 

become increasingly aware that the bond of Christ 

unites them in a fellowship of faith with Christians of 

every race, color, nation, and clime. 

A fifth approach to Communion is in the mood 

of dedication or commitment. In a very real sense, a 

declaration of intent is implied in this Sacrament. The 

words of the ritual invite, "Ye that do truly and earnestly 

repent of your sins, and are in love and charity with your 

neighbors, and intend to lead a new life [Italics added — Ed.] 

following the commandments of God . . ." In approaching 

the Lord's table, we declare our intent. In the closing 

prayer of the ritual we articulate this commitment: ". . . here 

we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our 

souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living 

sacrifice unto thee." Holy Communion involves commitment. 

A sixth approach to the Lord's table is in the mood 

of renewal. When in the need of spiritual refreshment and 

reinvigoration, there is no better place to renew our inner 

resources and our Christian convictions than at the Lord's 

table. There, in the mystical presence of the Christ, we 

can be thankful for his grace, taking bread and wine in 

his memory. In company with fellow Christians who stand 

and kneel and pray at our side, we publicly affirm our 

commitment to him, and seek strength to be faithful 

followers of Jesus Christ. □ 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


The Church 'In All the World' 


esus said: "Go therefore 

and make disciples of all nations." 

Centuries later, the founder 

of Methodism said: "I look upon all the 

world as my parish." 

John Wesley could not have 

visualized the extent of the church's 

global ministry; but Methodists, 

as Bishop Arthur J. Moore, wrote: 

". . . have every right to be proud 

of that procession of spiritual heroes 

and heroines whose eyes were 

on far horizons . . . 

No range of mountains has 

been high enough to stay their progress; 

no rivers deep and broad enough to 

daunt them; no forests dark and 

dense enough to withstand 

their advance." 

Through the years, in pictures 

and prose, Together has told the story 

of Methodists in mission, 

past and present. When the World 

Methodist Council meets in Singapore 

in 1976, it will include 59 member 

churches in 87 countries. 

Lorraine Dury — October, 

86 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

From April, 1972 




GOD AND I had always agreed about the plans for 
my life. Even before I entered kindergarten, I was 
certain that I was called to be a missionary — prob- 
ably to South America. So I was frustrated and discour- 
aged when during my last year of college everything 
seemed to go wrong. My denominational board was no 
longer sending unmarried women to Latin America. Next 
I decided to apply to the Peace Corps, but I was promptly 
rejected because of a rather minor case of asthma. 

Then I read about a special program to train teachers 
for East Africa. I fitted the qualifications exactly. Certain 
that this was the perfect vocational choice, I filled out 
the application without even bothering to spend any 
time in prayer. It was not until I had the application 
ready to mail that I became aware of that inner empty 
feeling telling me that I was not in tune with the Holy 
Spirit. I could not mail the application. 

When I went home for Easter, I was annoyed that my 
mother, who usually was helpful in my spiritual crises, 
could not understand my desire to go to Africa. 

"There are plenty of people who need good Christian 
teachers right here. If you want a challenging job, you 
don't need to go across the ocean to find it. Right across 
the river is all the challenge you will ever need." 

Mainly to quiet her nagging, and for a little adventure, 
I made an appointment with the school personnel office 
in St. Louis. Determined to sabotage the interview, I wore 
sloppy clothes and did everything wrong. 

"Would you be willing to teach in an integrated 
school?" the personnel director at one point asked. 

"Of course," I replied, self-righteously. With amazing 
eagerness, he picked up the telephone and arranged an 
interview with a high-school principal. 

Vashon High School turned out to be a large six-story 
factory building. It did not look like a school, and it did 
not look very integrated. Suddenly I understood the glint 
in the personnel director's eye: the school became inte- 
grated when I walked through the door. 

It was strange to be totally surrounded by black 
people. My eyes did not seem to work quite right. 

On the second floor I met a large elderly woman 
wearing a housedress. I assumed she was a janitress, but 
she was nice and offered to show me around. Soon I 

realized that she knew too much to be a janitress. "I'm 
the head of the English department," she told me. I 
eventually learned that Mrs. Richie had received her 
master's degree from Columbia University and is one 
of the most intelligent and best educated people in the 
teaching profession. When she introduced me to the 
principal, I could not tell whether he was white or Negro. 
I could not concentrate on the interview for wondering. 
Finally, when he mentioned the black school he had 
attended, I was able to categorize him properly. Even 
then, however, it dawned on me that I was a lot more 
race conscious than I had ever admitted to myself. 

I couldn't teach at Vashon! How dull and unglamorous! 
I could imagine our five-year class reunion: "Barbara? 
Oh, yes. She couldn't come. She's a missionary to Africa. 
Isn't that wonderful! What a great sacrifice." Or: "Bar- 
bara? Oh, she was probably ashamed to come. She's 
teaching English in some dinky little school in St. Louis. 
Probably couldn't get a job anywhere else." 

It was not a very pretty picture, but it was true. My 
interest in Africa and foreign missions was not really a 
concern about anyone's soul so much as it was a concern 
about my own reputation. 

My motives were not all bad. I still wanted to help 
my students overcome academic and personal problems, 
and hopefully to show them the importance of the 
Christian faith. But the first day I was at Vashon I realized 
I was going to have to learn a lot before I could minister 
to anyone. In the first place, I could not understand my 
students' language. If a class was "boss," did that mean 
it was good or bad? If a boy called me "mellow," should 
I blush or send him to the office? 

Soon I was not sure I had much to offer these kids at 
all. How could I expect a student to study grammar when 
he had to work from four o'clock to midnight every 
day as the sole support of his family? How could I ask a 
girl to go home and read Seventeenth Summer when she 
had to take care of her own baby and three brothers? 

For the first time in my life I was confronted by people 
who not only did not believe in the Christian faith but 
who had been deeply hurt by people who called them- 
selves Christians. When I tried to talk about Christian 
beliefs, I met open ridicule from a few, but more dis- 
turbing was the almost pitying attitude most took: "You 
really have delusions about this world, Baby." 

But words were not what disturbed me most. What 
kind of Christian witness could I make when I could not 
even invite my new black friends to my church — because 
I knew they would not be welcomed? Instead of repre- 
senting the faith that set men free, I began to feel that I 
represented the religion of the white boys who beat 
up Don and chased him out of the swimming pool. 

Knowing all they had suffered at the hands of people 
who called themselves Christian, I was surprised at the 
depth of faith of some of my fellow teachers. My depart- 
ment head, whom I had earlier misjudged so badly, was 
my constant source of inspiration for both educational 
and spiritual development. Often I would go to her 
almost in tears, and she would put her arm around me 
and tell me about her struggles of faith, or explain the 
background of a child I could not understand. 

Others taught me through harshness and brutal hon- 
esty. "You were scared silly the first day of class." Tom- 
mie Jones loved to rub that in. Tommie was one of my 


No embei December l'*7i IOC, I llll K 








'You were scared silly the first day of class." Tommie Jones loved to rub that in. 

most important teachers. He stayed after school every 
day to tell me what I had done wrong. "Don't call any- 
one 'Boy.' Black people are tired of whites not recogniz- 
ing that they are grown up. And don't be so soft." 

The softness did not last. I had always prided myself 
on being gentle and even-tempered, but I soon found 
myself reacting to the strains of teaching with sarcasm 
and vengeful punishments. I was horrfied to find that 
my students responded better. I realized that they did 
not just live by the law of the jungle. While they fre- 
quently did use cruelty, threats, and sarcasm to defend 
themselves against each other, there was also within 
them a strong positive force I was unfamiliar with. 

I began to understand it better when I attended a 
party at one student's home in "the projects," notorious 
government-built apartment buildings where even police 
and firemen were afraid to go. 

There were nine children in the family and the father 
was unemployed. At first I was somewhat frightened by 
the loud music and exuberant dancing, but as I became 
accustomed to the atmosphere, I was enveloped in the 
warmth and love that radiated from everyone. 

How could 11 people live together in a five-room 
apartment? 'But they did! And gradually I realized that 
the strength my students had which enabled them to 
live in this world of cruelty and oppression was uncon- 
ditional love. It is the kind of love which continues 
whether the loved one lives up to your expectations or 
not. This kind of love was new to me and I was afraid 
of it. I had to admit I had never really been in love — and 
I wasn't sure I had ever loved anyone with love that 
strong. I had always felt that the man I would marry 
would have to fit my and my parents' standards of educa- 
tion, religion, and social class. Now I was beginning to 
realize that unconditional love has to be willing to accept 

My association with black people also helped me un- 
derstand and accept myself. My white friends often had 
tried to help me overcome my shyness, but they were 
afraid to risk our friendship by suggesting ways to change 
my appearance. My new black friends were willing to 
share themselves by inviting me to their parties, making 
subtle suggestions about my clothes, and lavishing com- 
pliments on me when I improved. They also vhm< 

No\ ember-Dec emlicr 


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me that love was worth taking risks 

During my third year of teaching, 
I had my first contact with the Black 
Muslims. I had read a lot about the 
sect and had heard that they taught 
that the white man was a devil and 
would be destroyed. Needless to say, 
I was nervous to know that at least 
one of my students believed I was a 
devil. But his behavior surprised me. 
Not only was he one of the neatest, 
most conscientious students, but he 
also often demonstrated a genuine 
concern for me. 

The appearance of Black Muslims 
in the class was only one of several 
signs that things were changing at 
the school. It was also the beginning 
of other revelations for me. I had 
been quite proud at how well 1 had 
gotten along. Now I began to dis- 
cover why. One of only a few white 
teachers, I had been treated as a 
fragile pet. For example, I finally no- 
ticed that white teachers got rooms 
of their own while black teachers 
often had to share rooms. 

The day after the murder of Dr. 
Martin Luther King, Jr., one of my 
fellow teachers admitted, "I didn't 
want to come today. I didn't know 
if I could stand the sight of a white 

I was deeply hurt, but my eyes 
were opened. I began to see the daily 
injustice in the school system which 
my fellow teachers suffered under. I 
saw the psychological pain of my 
students, always studying about the 
accomplishments of white people 
and the ridicule of blacks in most of 
their textbooks. And as I watched 
the "natural" hairdos and dashikis 
begin to appear, I saw the determina- 
tion of my students to free them- 
selves from the damages done by 
people who had tried to teach them 
that God did not create all men in 
his own image. 

Eventually the cry for black studies 
became a cry for black teachers. One 
day a militant leader confronted me 
with their desires to get rid of all 
white teachers. I was forced to admit 
that he was right: no white teacher 
could really understand the suffer- 
ings of black people. 

So now I am returning to my own 
race, to teach in a predominantly 
white high school. After six years of 
having Vashon High School serve as a 
missionary to me, I hope I can carry 
a little of its message to others. □ 


November-December 197! TOGETHER 

Where are they now? 

It HAS happened many times around the Together office. We 
would be discussing a new article idea or an issue that had just 
been printed, and someone would say, "Whatever happened to 
the minister who did thus-and-so?" or "Did you hear what so- 
and-so is doing now?" We can't tell you where everyone is now, 
but we hope you'll enjoy this sampling of folks who, or whose 
work, appeared in pages past of Together. — Martha A. Lane 


Faith Baldwin, whose first poem was 
printed in the old Christian Advocate 
when she was 
"probably IOV2 
— I wrote it on a 
chocolate box," 
was an early To- 
gether contribu- 
tor. Thanks for a 
Happy Heart, a 
personal testi- 
mony (October, 
1958), is a good 
example of her inspirational writing. 
An octogenarian as of October this 
year, she has written more than 90 
books, including novels, children's 
stories, and poetry. "I do wish the 
new magazine [United Methodists 
Today] great success," she said. 

Together's most regular contribu- 
tors, of course, have been its staff 
members. While some left the mag- 
azine for entirely new careers, most 
have continued in journalism. For 
instance, Paul Friggens, former execu- 
tive editor, is with Reader's Digest. 
Fred R. Zepp, former managing edi- 
tor, reports for a Philadelphia news- 

John Mack Carter, executive editor 
for a short time, edits Ladies' Home 
lournal. Mr. Carter also is chairman 
of the board and editor-in-chief of 
Downe Communications, Inc. George 
P. Miller, picture editor for 16 years, 
edits photos for America Illustrated, a 
United States Information Agency 
publication. Former associate editor 
Newman S. Cryer now heads the 
Indiana Area United Methodist Com- 
munications office. 

The James Detweilers were chosen 
Methodist Family of the Year in 1958. 
Fifteen years later, the Detweilers' 
pattern of living remains energetic. 
Jim, a staff engineer with Lock- 
heed, and Dorothy, who works full 
time in real estate, are still active 
in First United Methodist Church of 

Burbank, Calif. Jim serves as chairman 
of the board of directors of the Pa- 
cific Home of Burbank, a United 
Methodist-related home for the aged, 
and is a governor of Goodwill In- 
dustries. Dorothy is a director of the 
YMCA and founding president of the 
Pacific Home Auxiliary. 

The rest of the family has divided 
and multiplied since we last saw 
them. Oldest son Doug, an area sales 
manager for a valve company, lives 
in Holden, Mass., with his wife, In- 
grid, and son, Sean. Jeanie lives in 
Burbank with husband Bill, a high- 
school science teacher, Michael, 8, 
and Shaunna, 5. 

The highlight of 1973 for the elder 
Detweilers was a trip to Princeton 
University where their youngest son, 
Rick, was awarded a Ph.D. in social 
psychology. Rick's life has been full 
of firsts since then — his first class as 
a professor at Drew University (he 
failed to meet it) and (the reason 
why) a first baby born the same 
morning. He and his wife, Carol, and 
new daughter, Jerusha, live in White 
Meadow Lake, N.J. 

Sune Richards 

The oils-on-photograph depictions of 
Jesus' disciples created by Sune 
Richards were an instant hit with To- 
gether readers in October, 1957. So 

we later printed her series on women 
of the Bible, children of the Old 
Testament, and her impression of 
John the Baptist [see page 46]. 

Today Sune Richards is pastor of 
Unity Christ Church, Lakeland, Fla. 
"Being a minister is the most diffi- 
cult work I have ever been engaged 
in — a 24-hour-a-day job," she says. 
But she loves it! Mrs. Richards still 
gives inspirational lectures illustrated 
with her photo-paintings and is 
working on her eighth series, this 
one of the patriarchs. How does she 
relax? By painting "all day long" 
every Friday at the studio of a friend. 

When Ernie Banks, Chicago Cubs' 
"praying slugger," appeared in May, 
1957, as an Un- 
usual Methodist, 
the right-handed 
shortstop had 
just been tapped 
for the All Star 
Game. Ernie 
hung up his bat 
a couple of years 
ago to become a 
full-time Cub 
coach, but he's still out pitching for 
community groups and young folks. 

Missiles and Civilization was the title 
of Wernher von Braun's October, 
1959, article. The eminent scientist 
and rocket pioneer then was devel- 
oping army missiles and the Saturn 
I booster. From 1960 to 1970 Dr. von 
Braun directed the George C. Mar- 
shall Space Flight Center. His assign- 
ment: provide Saturn V launch ve- 
hicles for NASA's manned lunar land- 
ing program, develop Skylab, and 
begin work on a space shuttle. After 
two years as NASA's deputy associate 
administrator, he became Fairchild 
Industries' vice-president of engi- 
neering and development. 

"What do you enjoy most about 
your present work?" we recently 
asked Dr. von Braun. 

"Working for my lovely secretary!" 

"What is your church affiliation?" 


"Do you still believe, as you wrote 
in Together 14 years ago, that 
'science has in no way done away 
with God; it has only broadened the 
frontiers along which we can see his 
wonderful works'?" 

"I believe it more than ever." 

Then he pointed out something he 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER qi 

had told a college graduating class: 
"For me the idea of a creation is not 
conceivable without invoking the 
necessity for God. One cannot be 
exposed to the law and order of the 
universe without concluding that 
there must be a Divine Intent behind 
it all." 

Tennessee Ernie Ford was labeled 
"man of mirth — and faith" when 
Together fea- 
tured him as an 
Unusual Meth- 
odist in June, 
1957. "Ol' Ern" is 
still charming 
audiences today 
with his tall tales 
and his singing. 
He has sold 
more than 15 
million religious albums alone, mak- 
ing him foremost in the field. 

After success in television, Ernie 
left the sound stage to spend more 
time with his family, but he returns 
occasionally now for guest appear- 
ances. He maintains close contact 
with his treasured Tennessee roots 
as a radio and TV spokesman for a 
food company in Nashville. But he's 
still a family man, spending much 
of his time in Portola Valley, Calif., 
with his wife of 30 years. 

Lester E. Griffith's account of being 

held for more than a month by 

Algerian rebels 

[page 34] was 

first printed in 

April, 1959. Soon 

thereafter he was 

assigned as a 

missionary to 

Belgium, then to 

Tunisia in North 


"In the autumn 
of 1962, following Algerian inde- 
pendence, the same men who had 
held me captive in '58 invited us to 
return to Algeria to reopen the 
mountain mission stations that had 
been occupied by both armies dur- 
ing the fighting," Mr. Griffith writes. 

The Griffiths returned to the U.S. 
in 1970. He now serves the Mulberry 
Street United Methodist Church of 
Mount Vernon, Ohio, and continues 
his mission involvement as confer- 
ence missionary secretary. 

Lifelong Methodist Anna Arnold 
Hedgeman was the only woman on 
New York City's mayoral cabinet and 
that group's only African American 
("No hyphen there," she insists. "I'm 
not a hyphenated American.") when 
we introduced her to you (Unusual 
Methodists, July 1957). Since then 

she has held several National Coun- 
cil of Churches positions, was a 
planner of the 
March on Wash- 
ington and of g 
the subsequent 
organization of 
Protestant, Cath- 
olic, and Jewish 
power toward >-'* 
t h e successful A 
passage of the WL 
Civil Rights Act ^* 
of 1964, and she has traveled widely. 

She has participated in interna- 
tional conferences around the globe, 
interpreting American historical de- 
velopment, education in the U.S., 
reciprocity for seamen of the world, 
and the role of women in world 

A current personal concern, Mrs. 
Hedgeman says, is that the organized 
church no longer has great impact 
on society in behalf of people. 

Norman Cousins wrote two articles 
on the journey of 25 Japanese 
atomic-bomb blast survivors to the 
U.S. for plastic surgery and their sub- 
sequent return to Japan {The Hiro- 
shima Maidens Co Home, October, 
1956, and The Hiroshima Maidens — 
15 Years Later, August, 1960). 

The Rev. Kiyoshi Tanimoto, who 
first thought of sending the girls to 
America for plastic surgery, pastors 
the Nagerakawa United Church of 
Christ of Hiroshima with his wife, 
Chesa. Dr. Marvin W. Green, the 
stateside pastor who coordinated 
U.S. aid for the girls, later helped 
bring 35 Nazi war-prison "guinea 
pigs" to the U.S. for medical and 
psychiatric help. Dr. Green, of the 
Community United Methodist 
Church, Kenilworth, N.J., was re- 
united with some of the "maidens" 
and the Tanimotos during a 19-day 
visit to Japan this past summer. 

Mr. Cousins, then editor of The 
Saturday Review, was another major 
figure in making the Japanese girls' 

trip to the U.S. possible. He resigned 
from the Review late in 1971 in a 
policy disagreement with Review's 
new owners, then put out a new bi- 
weekly called World. The Review 
went bankrupt under its new owners, 
though, so Norman Cousins has 
bought back the magazine he edited 
for 31 years and has merged it with 

May, 1960's People Called Method- 
ists feature was about Thelma and 
Delia Inmon, a mother-and-daughter 
team working a 60,000-acre ranch 
near Deming, N.M. Delia met and 
married Tommy Perez while attend- 
ing New Mexico State University. In 
1965 they took over the working end 
of the Inmon ranch and later bought 
20 sections. They had two sons, one 
of whom died in a fairground acci- 

Norman Cousins 

Delia, Rebecca, and Thelma 

dent when only five, and a daughter 
(pictured here with Delia and 
Thelma). Delia is active in Farm 
Bureau Women and has been win- 
ning more state and local sewing 
prizes, as has her mother. 

Thelma has served 12 years on the 
state board of education since 1960 
and made an unsuccessful bid for the 
state legislature. Last year she retired 
to Deming, where she continues ac- 
tive in Republican Women's Club 
and many other things. In 1968 Delia, 
Tommy, and Thelma were named 
New Mexico Farm Bureau Family of 
the Year. 

A pictorial in June, 1961, introduced 
readers to Ramon and Leticia 
Cernuda and their three children and 
told how Miami Methodists were 
helping Cuban refugee families like 
the Cernudas. 

After coming to the U.S., Mr. 
Cernuda, who owned a furniture 
store and factory in Cuba, was hired 
by Sears Roebuck and sent to Puerto 
Rico. His second Sears transfer was 
to Lincolnwood, III. (a Chicago sub- 
urb). Now he is managing a Sears 
store in Lima, Peru. . 

92 November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Bart Starr at Rawhide Boys Ranch 

For the first time in his career, Bart 
Starr, Green Bay Packers great, is 
second-guessing the quarterback 
from the stands. When he was in To- 
gether (November, 1963), he was the 
National Football League's top passer 
and chairman of Wisconsin's Easter 
Seals drive. Now he's in the business 
world — automobile dealerships; a 
motel complex; and his new com- 
pany, Bart Starr Distributors (sports 
merchandise, of course). 

His favorite community project is 
Rawhide Boys Ranch near New Lon- 
don, Wis., which gives leadership 
training to young men needing a sec- 
ond chance. 

Bart's immediate aim, we hear, is 
to improve his golf game so that 
young Bart can quit giving him 

The Rush Gordon family 

The October, 1966, issue saw the 
Rush Gordon family of Meridian, 
Miss., featured as People Called 
Methodists. Rush was carrying trays 
in a cafeteria when a man, im- 

pressed by his work, offered him a 
better job. He took it — and became 
the only full-time employee for the 
Cullom Sign Company. Mrs. Gor- 
don — Ruth — was pianist for three 
United Methodist churches and di- 
rected a youth choir. The Gordon 
sons were two, eight, and ten. 

Today Rush works in the wire- 
bound division of General Box 
Company. He still is lay leader of 
his local church, Wesley Chapel. 

Ruth gave up her piano work to 
care for her mother-in-law who 
now lives with them. She also works 
full time, is secretary of Wesley 
Chapel's United Methodist Women, 
and is a leader in area youth work. 

Sons Joseph and David are in 
high school and working part time, 
while Paul is in the fourth grade 
and is "always ready for something 
to happen." 

Jesse Stuart — novelist, poet, short- 
story writer, lecturer, teacher here 
and abroad, writer of nonfiction — has 
appeared several times in Together 
(What America Means to Me, July, 
1960; How Christmas Came to No- 
where Hills, December, 1961; What 
College Meant to Me, June, 1962; 
Sounds on the April Wind, April, 
1971). Jesse and his wife, Deane, still 
live in their beloved W-Hollow, site 
of many of his stories, in the Ken- 
tucky hill country near Greenup. His 
latest book, The Land Beyond the 
River, is a novel set in Ohio. 

Three heart attacks have caused 
Mr. Stuart to cut down on lectures 
and travel. But this year alone he 
still wrote three books and about 
20 stories. That's in addition to 
supervising his 1,000-acre W-Hollow 
farm, being chairman of the admin- 
istrative board of the local United 
Methodist church, celebrating his 
66th birthday, and enjoying his 
young grandsons. 

The Stuarts' daughter, Jane, by the 
way, also is a talented writer. 

Harry Denman was general secretary 
of the Methodist Board of Evangel- 
ism when he wrote What Prayer 
Means to Me (April, 1959) and What 
Aldersgate Means to Me (May, 1963). 
He retired from that position in 1965 
but still continues his lay-evangelism 
activities. When we contacted him 
recently, for instance, he was prepar- 
ing to go to a Christian ashram in 

We've come to quickly recognize 
Harry Denman's handwriting here in 
the office. He frequently sends us 
article ideas and personal words of 
encouragement — both of which are 

"Jesus did not practice apathy but 
empathy," Dr. Denman wrote us re- 
cently. "He told a story about the 
priest of Judaism and the Levite who 
was chairman of the social-concerns 
commission practicing apathy — but 
the Samaritan showed empathy with 
his deeds of love. God is love; Christ 
is the Son of Love. The Holy Spirit 
gives us power to love all persons. 
The church is a body of obedient 
lovers — our love must be seen." 

It is said of Harry Denman that 
we may never see his like again. He 
continues to practice what he 
preaches, carrying the gospel of love 
and prayer throughout the land. 

Paul Dietzel 

Remember the October, 1961, People 
Called Methodists piece on Paul 
Dietzel, football coach of Louisiana 
State University's Tigers? After LSU 
he went to the U.S. Military Acad- 
emy, then to the University of South 
Carolina, where he now is head foot- 
ball coach and director of athletics. 
Paul is involved with the Fellowship 
of Christian Athletes, has written two 
books, and is a deacon in Columbia's 
First Baptist Church. Whether on or 
off the field, he always has advice 
for young people. For example: 

"If you spend your hours reading 
the readily available smut or gazing 
at X-rated movies, then that will oc- 
cupy your mind. Likewise, if your 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 


quiet moments are spent studying 
and assimilating God's Word, then 
his tenets will probably be reflected 
in your life." Hundreds of athletes 
have followed the coach's advice. 

Leroy Gordon Cooper was an air 
force major preparing for an 18-orbit 
mission (the longest flight to date 
then) when he appeared in the April, 
1963, Unusual Methodists depart- 
ment. He retired from NASA after be- 
coming a colonel and piloting Faith 
7 on 22 trips around the earth in 
1963, then Gemini V on 120 orbits 
in 1965. He was on the backup crews 
for both Gemini XII and Apollo X. 
His new business is Gordon Cooper 
and Associates, Inc., based in Miami 
Beach, Fla. 

Cooper (cen.) and fellow astronauts, 1963 

She had been a specialist in anes- 
thesiology for 30 years, a specialist 
in birth defects for 3 years, when 
Together introduced Dr. Virginia 
Apgar as an Unusual Methodist in 
July, 1961. She headed the National 
Foundation-March of Dimes' division 
of congenital malformations then, is 
now vice-president of medical affairs. 

Dr. Apgar is perhaps best known 
for the Apgar Score, a procedure she 
developed for examining a baby in 
its first minute of life. The informa- 
tion thus gained makes possible a 
rapid prognosis of infants' survival 
chances, thereby saving many lives. 

Internationally famous, Dr. Apgar 
has won dozens of awards. Last May, 
alone, she was the first woman to re- 
ceive the Alumni Gold Medal for 
Distinguished Achievement in Med- 
icine from the Columbia University 
College of Physicians and Surgeons, 
was named Woman of the Year in 
Science and Research by a Ladies' 

Dr. Virginia Apgar 

Home Journal jury on a CBS-TV 
special, and two other awards. 

"When someone asks what I do all 
day, I really don't know how to an- 
swer," Dr. Apgar wrote on August 
13. "Since June 1, I have been on a 
South American junket to Buenos 
Aires, Santiago, and Caracas; to 
Boulder, Colo., for a March of Dimes 
meeting of teen-age leaders; to 
Pontiac, Mich., to speak to a group 
of state health-department nurses; 
and to five other similar meetings. 
Next week I go to Norway for a 
short vacation, then to Vienna, Yugo- 
slavia, and Berlin." 

Dr. Apgar continues as an active 
member of the Tenafly (N.J.) United 
Methodist Church. She still enjoys 
both making and playing stringed in- 
struments, gardening, photography, 
and stamp collecting. 

Welthy Honsinger Fisher, widow of 
Methodist Bishop Frederick Bohn 
Fisher of Calcutta, India, most re- 
cently appeared in Together in June, 
1967 (She Lights the Lamp of Learn- 
ing). She was 72 when she decided 
to return to India to establish a lit- 
eracy program that soon was studied 
and copied by developing countries 
around the globe. 

After two decades at her Literacy 
House (sponsored by World Educa- 
tion, New York), Mrs. Fisher retired 
to the U.S. this year — at 93 years of 
age. She was visited by many Indian 
dignitaries prior to her departure, in- 
cluding longtime friend Indira 
Gandhi. Her trip home included an 
11-day stop in China where 67 years 
earlier she was headmistress of a 
girls school. At home in Southbury, 
Conn., she has given several lectures 
and is busy planning a 1974 return 
trip to China. 

Dr. James W. Turpin was likened to 
the late Dr. Tom Dooley in an 
April, 1967, color pictorial. He and 
his wife, Mollie, had founded Proj- 
ect Concern, a nonsectarian, non- 

profit, medical-aid organization, in 
1961. The article told of his work 
among the poor in war-torn Viet 
Nam and refugee-clogged Hong 
Kong. Since then, his wife has be- 
come a doctor; Project Concern has 
spread to Mexico, Ethiopia, Guate- 
mala, Indonesia, and two localities 
in the U.S. — Appalachia and the 
Navajo country of the Southwest; 
and two of his four children seem 
headed for medical careers. 

After a year's work in Appalachia, 
Mollie is now a psychiatric resident 
at Emory University in Atlanta, Ga. 
Jim, at this writing, will continue the 
mountain program until physician re- 
placements can be found. 

Dr. Turpin describes some of his 
happiest experiences as: "Realizing 
the health and well-being improve- 
ments that have taken place in the 
canyons of Tijuana, Tuyen Due 
Province in South Viet Nam, the 
typhoon shelters and other neigh- 
borhoods of Hong Kong, and the 
establishment of our first domestic 
project in the mountains of Ten- 

"I must say, and I speak person- 
ally, of course, that for me Project 
Concern is evidence of my Chris- 
tian convictions," Dr. Turpin also 
told us. "I truly believe that this is 
'church work' of a most specific and 
meaningful type." 

Dr. James W. Turpin 

Among those left homeless in the 
aftermath of riots on Chicago's West 
Side following Dr. Martin Luther 
King, Jr.'s assassination were mem- 
bers of the Mark Sadler family (A 
Ghetto Family: Victims of Violence, 
July, 1968). 

Another tragedy rocked the Sad- 
lers in 1970 when their 15-year-old 
son committed suicide. But there 
have been bright moments, too, such 
as Mary Ann and Mark, Jr., graduat- 
ing from high school. She now works 
for the phone company and he is in 
the air force. 

"We were burned out for about 
18 days before we found a place — a 


November-December 1973 TOGETHER 

Chicago Housing Authority apart- 
ment," Mrs. Sadler tells us. "Recently 
we moved to Indiana Avenue [in 
Chicago] and started to buy an eight- 
room house. That is one of the best 
things that's happened to me since 
the fire." 

Although Mark still drives trucks, 
this does not provide him with steady 
employment and the future of that 
house is in question after a temporary 
layoff this spring caused a backlog 
of bills. The Sadlers are now trying 
to catch up on house payments, but 
high prices of food and other neces- 
sities threaten their success. 

The Sadlers are active in a Mis- 
sionary Baptist church. 

We end our revisit to people in 
pages past of Together by sharing a 
condensation of a short article which 
appeared in February, 1961, and a 
letter which we received 12 years 
later. The article, The Wedge of Love, 
appeared under the name Anne Cole, 
a pseudonym the author asked us to 
use. Here is the text: 

AT SEVEN one morning, hands 
without a body prepared me 
for surgery. At five that evening, the 
same hands gently brushed damp 
hair from my eyes just as I began to 
see the world again. Next to my hus- 
band's haggard face I saw another, 
beautiful but blurred, whose name I 
did not know. 

Vaguely, sometime during the 
hours that followed, I heard the voice 
of my surgeon: "Get a special nurse." 
Then Jim's foggy-edged answer: "If 
we have to." And I thought only one 
word: Money. 

Immediately I heard a voice which 
I knew belonged to the love in those 
eyes: "I'll stay." And the word money 
fled from my mind. 

About six the next morning, I really 
saw Helen for the first time. "Are you 
still here?" I mumbled. She wet my 
lips and whispered, "Now, don't you 
worry. I've been sleeping here by 
your bed." 

At seven o'clock she went on floor 
duty once again. 

For days I cannot recall, she con- 
tinued to alternate her unpaid special 
duty and a job that supported her 
mother and a four-year-old son. 

At first, when Jim came for his 
evening visits, Helen disappeared. But 
when she returned with my eight 
o'clock juice and we found she 
brought laughter and joy besides the 
tinkling glass, we begged her to stay. 
That hour and a half began to be the 
focal point of my day. 

Then one morning, just as had 
happened twice before, I had to ad- 
mit that my back was failing to heal. 

Mr. and Mrs. Mark Sadler 

I had awakened before dawn to an 
empty room. Helen's chair sat close 
beside the bed, a rumpled pillow in 
one corner. I tried to move and then 
I knew. Not again! 

The door opened. Helen came in, 
a coffee cup in her outstretched 
hand. Then she saw the despair in 
my eyes. The cup fell to the floor, 
bounced, and rolled beneath the bed. 

Silently she cleaned the floor and 
fluffed my pillow. Then she said 
softly, "Anne, Cod has a reason." 
Nothing more. 

For days I hunted for that reason 
while I hid once more inside my shell 
and hurt Helen with my snubs of 
reality. I became more morose than 
ever; Helen became even more lov- 
ing. She put the telephone beside 
me and suggested I use it. "You're 
getting out of touch with the world." 
I ignored it and her. 

She suggested to the doctor that 
the No Visitors sign on my door did 
more harm than good. So I had 
visitors by the dozens. 

Then one day the doctor said: 
"Anne, I think we might get a fusion 
if we tried once again. We'd use live 
bone — not yours or any from the 
bone bank as we did before." 

"No," I answered, and turned my 
head to the wall. I heard Helen's 
sharp breath, but I didn't care. 

All that day, Helen met my visitors 
with, "They're going to do another 
fusion, this time using live bone." 

Each visitor asked, "Where will 
they get the bone?" 

My sister asked. My husband 
asked. I didn't ask. I didn't care. 

As Helen tucked me in that night, 
she paused and said, "Anne, you can 
have my bone." 

The others had asked, "Where will 
they get the bone?" Helen, who had 

known me only a short while, had 
answered. I could find neither words 
nor voice to express my gratitude. 
My eyes filled with tears, but words 
would not come. 

Then she turned my face toward 
hers, and tears welled from beneath 
her lids. "Anne, my bone is just as 
white as yours." 

I gasped. Of course I had noticed, 
but at that moment I first consciously 
realized that Helen and I belonged 
to different races . . . 

Today I walked across the floor 
and remembered Helen once again. 
And tomorrow when I walk, I will 
again be thankful to her wedge of 
love that supports me. 

The letter, datelined Tulsa, Okla., 
February 9, 1973, came from "Anne 
Cole." She wrote: 

"Helen, the nurse in the story, has 
just died at the age of 39 — from ex- 
haustion. Is it possible to reprint my 
article as a tribute to her? 

"I sincerely believe that it means 
more now than it did 12 years ago, 
and I ache to do something to per- 
petuate her memory. If you wish, you 
may now use both of our real names. 
Hers was Ruby Guyton. Mine is 
Helen Parkinson." 

In many ways, The Wedge of Love 
represents what Together has been 
about for 17 years — about life and 
death, faith and fear, love and indif- 
ference, everyday problems and God- 
devised solutions, people learning to 
love each other regardless of attitude 
or race or social position. 

We hope that Together's succes- 
sor, United Methodists Today, too, 
will encourage you to be Christ's 
"wedges of love" to those among 
whom you live. □ 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 



»v ' .* 

• >«v 




*p> m 



■ ■ 

From January, 1971 


In the beginning. Lord, you gave us this garden Earth. 

Out of its deep waters came life. Then you provided air, and life pushed 
upward. It crept upon the wet land and then the dry land. 

You made man in your own image. Lord, to stand up and to have dominion. 

To watch plants grow and birds fly and streams now. To feed 

upon the life-giving goodness which you put here for our sustenance. 

You placed us here to plant, cultivate, and harvest — to rule and manage. What 
a trust you put into our hands ! We managed, we built, we used what was here. 

Yes, we wasted. But everything seemed so limitless, Lord. Air without 

bounds, water clear and everflowing, forests primeval, richness 

in Earth s bowels to be exploited for our comfort and our progress. 

With what you put into our hands. Lord, we have built skyscrapers and 
monuments and automobiles. And tombstones. We fly in the skies, even thrust 
to the moon and beyond to satisfy curiosity and prove what man can do. 

We thought there always would be enough for future generations. What little 
thought we gave it as we mined and manufactured and engineered ! 

Wastes ooze into precious waters : Why do your rains not wash the rivers clean? 

Murky clouds hover over our cities, obscuring skylines : Are your winds 

not strong enough to take away the jet exhaust, the auto fumes, the stack smoke? 

We scrape mountainsides away: Will not the lush green return next spring? 

Your prophets told us to be fruitful and multiply, to fill the earth and have 
dominion. But now there are so many of us! And getting to be more. 

What shall we do now. Lord? 

— Newman S. Cryer 

November-December 1973 TOGETHER 97 


An Ending . . . 
A Beernnin 

HIS Collector's Edition of Together is published as a tribute to 
you, the readers who have supported the magazine faithfully, and to the 
editors and staff who have served you with dedication, perception, and 
purpose. This is the final issue of Together. Next month vou — and we 
hope many new subscribers — will receive the first issue of United 
Methodists Today, a new digest-size magazine for the general membership 
of our church. 

Together first appeared in October, 1956. In terms of volume it reached 
its peak of service when 1,218,000 copies of the special issue on the 
175th anniversary of Methodism [November, 1959] were mailed to 
homes and churches across America and abroad. Now, 17 years since it 
began, the magazine's circulation has declined to less than 250,000. 

In the 17 years since 1956, United Methodism as a whole has become 
smaller in relation to American society. Church membership is down 
approximately 2 percent. Church-school membership is down 30 percent. 
The U.S. population, in contrast, is up 24 percent. 

For everything there is a season, and we dare not dwell in the past. 
The time has come to rethink our magazine publishing program. We have 
done this with the help of readers like yourself and with the counsel 
of professional journalists of national reputation. The consensus is that 
your spiritual interest, your time, your concerns will best be served by 
a publication new in form, content, and purpose. That is our goal for 
Uiuted Methodists Today. 

The future unquestionably will bring change, and for many it 
will come with painful speed. Communication, as always, will be a major 
force for change. One grim prospect for the future is the potential for 
opinion manipulation through overzealous control of the channels of 
communication. The church will thrive and grow only through 
constructive communication, the free exchange of ideas, cross-ventilating 
discussions of the great moral issues of our times, and the kind of 
compassionate understanding that is aware of, but not bound by, 
yesterday's traditions. 

Concurrent with the appearance of United Methodists Today, a 
broadened effort to serve United Methodist pastors will begin in the 
form of a special edition of the new general magazine. The 
Today s Ministry edition will include news and features of particular 
interest to church leaders. The General Board of Publication has 
authorized the publisher to provide complimentary subscriptions for 
United Methodists Today and Today's Ministry to all United 
Methodist pastors. Christian Advocate, with a publishing history dating 
back to 1826, will make its last appearance in 1973. It has served the 
clergy of our denomination since 1956. 

As envisioned by the editors, United Methodists Today will be 
a "personal" kind of magazine, both in content and in format. Through 
articles and pictorials about our local congregations and their people, 
it will help United Methodists to know each other better. And in 
dealing with issues important to Christians in the 1970s, it will help 
readers to know themselves better. It will be direct and to the point, 
sometimes humorous, sometimes serious, often brief. Fine photography 
and latest printing techniques will make it colorful and appealing. 

One other thing: Only as its message is exposed to many people 
can United Methodists Today achieve its goal of service to our church. 
For exposure, circulation, we are counting on friends like you. 

( y President and Publisher 

\J The United Methodist Publishing House 

98 November-December 1973 TOCtTHER 

Celebrate the joys and face the 

challenges of Christian living 

in the pages of 



The new general magazine 
for United r 'Methodists 

^United Methodists tfODAY 

brings you the inspiration and hope, the information and entertain- 
ment to make your life more meaningful in today's complex world. 
This brand new magazine is brightly Christian, direct and to the 
point . . . filled with news, features, and humor. TODAY is about people 
and about issues important to United Methodists in these times. 
TODAY is about you. TODAY is for you. 

Continuing a Great Tradition 

For nearly two decades, Together Magazine has been a vital force 
in the development of Methodism throughout the world. Now that 
magazine is retiring and turning over this vital task to the new pub- 
lication . . . United Methodists TODAY. 

•TODAY is fresh, vibrant and alive . . . and a new "digest" size to 

be easily carried in purse or pocket 
•TODAY reports on the many ways God is active in your church 
and your life 

•TODAY brings understanding of new and important issues in 
the light of the Christian gospel. 

•TODAY is issued monthly, with the words of famous authors, 
clergymen, and lay people in every issue, plus lots of full-color 
photographs and illustrations. 

•TODAY is for teens and those of college age, for family and friends, 
and for the golden years . . . meaningful, useful, inspirational for 
every United Methodist. 

Charter Subscription Offer 

Subscribe Now and Get T\vo Valuable Collector's Editions! 

Become a Charter Subscriber to United Methodists TODAY and re- 
ceive two valuable collector's editions: 

Collector's Edition No. 1. The first issue of TODAY. . .the always- 
to-be treasured Volume I, Number 1! 

Co/lector's Edition No. 2. The final issue of Together Magazine 
...over 100 pages, many in full color... a book-size treasury 
selected from 17 years of publication! 

You get both of these valuable Collector's Editions simply by becom- 
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the regular price. TODAY will be an important part of your life, the 
lives of your family and fellow United Methodists everywhere. Fill 
in and mail the reply card for your personal and gift subscrip- 
tions . . . today. 


201 8th Avenue, South • Nashville, Tenn. 37202 




rrcncu cawlusttclt r\jn 



Enjoy this new, all-surface tour departing from New York and Chicago by 
train to Los Angeles, then a 17-day cruise on the famous ROYAL VIKING SKY 
(Norwegian registry). Your luxury liner cruises to Puerto Vallarta and Acapulco 
in colorful MEXICO; through the Panama Canal to South America's Cartagena, 
COLOMBIA; the well-known resort of Montego Bay, JAMAICA; Port-au-Prince 
in vibrant HAITI; and the ever-popuar NASSAU — returning to Ft. Lauderdale, 
Florida, and train return to your home towns. Led by The Rev. Merrill S. Tope. 


July 9 - July 30 



Departing by streamlined train from Chicago, Milwaukee or Minneapolis for 
21-enjoyable days to see Glacier National Park, cool Banff and Lake Louise, 
Fraser and Thompson Canyons, Vancouver and Victoria, B.C., Trail of '98, 
Seattle and Spokane's new Expo '74! Features the breathtakingly beautiful 8-day 
Canadian Pacific INSIDE PASSAGE CRUISE. Shore stops at Ketchikan, Wrangell, 
Skagway, Juneau, Prince Rupert and Alert Bay; plus Bartlett Cove and 
Tracy Arm. Personally conducted by The Rev. Jerry Worthan. 

July 19 -Aug. 29 

Leave from New York for a cool summer on Holland America's premiere cruise 
to the Northlands of Europe. Enjoy 41 days visiting 11 countries including 
Iceland, the spectacular fjords of Norway, contemporary but rustic Sweden and 
Finland, the grand city of Leningrad in Russia, the fairytale land of Denmark 
and the lowland countries of Belgium and the Netherlands, France and England. 
A luxurious, carefree yet carefully priced cruise. Tour leader Dr. Woodrow Geier. 

Together we cover vast distances by air on our visit to all major points of 
interest "INSIDE ALASKA"! Departing from Chicago or Seattle, our Seventh 
Annual adventure includes Alaska Methodist University, Anchorage, famed Mt. 
Mc Kin ley. Fairbanks, Nome and Kotzebue, above the Arctic Circle. Short "Inside 
Passage" cruise includes Ketchikan, Juneau and Skagway. Schwatka cruise at 
Whitehorse, Alcan Highway, travel in safety and comfort, most modern accom- 
modations in America's last great frontier, with Rev. Dale Beittel. 


July 8 - July 29 

see the 


Once again you have the opportunity to see the spectacular national parks and 
lovely cities of our Western U.S.A. Travel by streamlined train and private motor- 
coach on a 3-week trip, from and returning to Chicago. Enjoy the pure magnifi- 
cence of The Grand Canyon, Los Angeles, San Diego, a scenic ride along the 
California coast, Santa Barbara, Monterey to charming San Francisco! Visit 
Lassen National Park, Portland, Bonneville Dam, Seattle, Victoria, B.C. and Mt. 
Rainier, plus Spokane's Expo '74. Under leadership of Dr. Robert Browning. 

Sept. 27 -Oct. 12 


Hawaii calls you to her white sand shores, her glowing sunsets and tranquil 
beauty. Experience the true flavor of Polynesia with 7 days in the Neighbor 
Islands of Hawaii, Kauai and Maui plus 5 days on Oahu in the sparkling capital 
of Honolulu. Join us at Chicago or Los Angeles. All meals, all sightseeing and 
all tipping included on this Methodist air tour, we use only regularly scheduled 
flights on UNITED AIRLINES. Conducted by Rev. Percy Stratton. 

A United Methodist tour lead- 
er for many years now, he is 
a former graduate of Ohio 
Wesleyan University and re- 
ceived his Masters Degree 
from Northwestern and B.D. 
from Garrett Biblical Institute. 
Reverend Tope has served 
Methodist churches in Illinois and the Chicago sub- 
urban area. He has led tours to Europe, British 
Isles, Alaska and Western U.S.A. 

distinguished leadership 

An outstanding tour leader, 
Rev. Stratton is presently Pas- 
tor of the United Methodist 
Church, Enon, Ohio. He for- 
merly served pastorates in 
New York and Virginia and 
currently is the Church's Edu- 
cation Director for Ohio's 
Springfield District. Rev. Stratton's expertise assures 
everyone on our Methodist tours of excellent and 
untiring service. 

A member of the staff of the 
Division of Higher Education 
of the Board of Education of 
L the United Methodist Church, 

J Dr. Geier is director of the 

^^L {^ Office of Information and 

^fl pL ^ ^■■k Publications for the Division. 
B^l^^ a HUB A noted author and professor, 
he has conducted Methodist Tours to the Caribbean, 
Hawaii and Alaska to the great enoyment of all. 



2200 Victory Parkway • Cincinnati, Ohio 45206 

I am interested in the following 1974 tours as offered ex- 
clusively in my commerative TOGETHER Edition — please 
send me the FREE folders as checked below: 

□ Around/Across 

□ Hawaii 

□ inside 

□ North Cape 

□ Alaska 

□ Western 



City & State 

Zip Code 

(please print) 

experienced management 

Wayfarer Group Travel, Inc. has been arranging tours especially for United 
Methodists for many years. We have taken readers of TOGETHER, their families 
and friends to literally the four corners of the world. Careful consideration ha* 
been given to the preferences and interests of United Methodists from yean of 
experience and successful operation. Only the finest in accommodations and 
services are included to permit complete satisfaction and enjoyment of the ex- 
cellent programs offered. Religious services will be conducted on Sundays enroute, 
whenever circumstances permit by our competent United Methodist leaders, In- 
cluding those picturod above. 

completely all-expense 

Every necessary item of expense is included from major considerations such as 
transportation, hotels and sightseeing to meals, baggage handling, special 
activities, and tips to all those serving you. On the international trips, visas are 
secured for you at no extra cost and all Information pertinent to passports, In- 
oculations and travel documents Is provided by the tour management. No worries 
about the time-consuming details of travel. The only expenses which cannot be 
Included are purely personal items, such as passport fees, laundry, telephone 
calls, pottage, souvenirs. 

^| For complete information — fill in, clip, and mail today I 


do not :::colate